


I'm Glad We All Got Together Finally

by teddybearnurse



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-27 17:50:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 32,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6293911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teddybearnurse/pseuds/teddybearnurse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All of the characters, backgrounds, and references belong to BioWare and the Dragon Age team. Set one year after the events of trespasser; includes info from awakening, the comics, and the novels. </p>
<p>Cadash lives as a part-time Red Jenny, secret leader of the Inquisition, and advises Divine Victoria, otherwise known as Cassandra. She misses her old friends and even the old excitement she used to have. Soon after leaving to meet Iron Bull, she gets an intriguing letter from Leliana: the Wardens may have found a cure for the Calling! Now Cadash must search for the Hero of Ferelden; taking Hawke, Varric, and Iron Bull with her. Will they find the Hero? Can they save Hawke's sister and the rest of the Wardens from their death sentence?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Advice from an Old Friend

Chapter One  
All Varric really wanted was a break. His head was pounding, nobles were swarming around him, and Hawke wasn’t even there to make it any better. Apparently spending time with Anders the exiled spirit-human hybrid was more important than helping him be a proper Viscount. Days like this made him wish he were back in The Hanged Man waiting on an update from Hawke or, Maker forbid, chasing after his idiot brother. 

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Varric said smoothly to the group of blabbering nobles gathered before him. “But I really must attend to business elsewhere. Or really, anywhere but here.”

One of the nobles sputtered an objection, something about “but the nugs… and my cabbages!” But Varric was already gone. He needed to clear his head. After starting two wars (approximately) in Kirkwall, banding and then “disbanding” the Inquisition, and defeating Corypheus, Varric decided he deserved a drink. It had been a whole year since Solas revealed his true self and Varric still needed a drink away those memories. 

He hummed to himself as he slipped Bianca onto his back and disappeared out the servant’s entrance. “Enchanter come to me, enchanter come to me…” He made his way to Lowtown, avoiding the usual Carta, Coterie, and whatever other lurking mercenary groups haunted the streets of Kirkwall at night. “Hard in Hightown my ass, Donnic and Aveline couldn’t keep these streets clean if they burned down. Again.” He scratched at the stubble on his chin. “Damn, that was pretty good. I need to use that for my next serial.” 

Suddenly the hairs on the back of his neck prickled and he could feel someone watching him from the shadows. He started humming again, feigning ignorance. He had already worked out that his soon-to-be-dead attacker was a dwarf. Probably Carta. Why was the Carta after him now? He paid them off weeks ago. Hopefully this wasn’t the Merchant’s Guild after him again. He casually switched his grip on Bianca so that she was ready to fire. “ Alright you nug-humper! Show yourself! And if you’re Carta you’ve got one chance to back away! I already paid off your boss and Bianca’s feeling twitchy today.”

“I knew I missed you, Varric.” A female dwarf stepped out of the shadows. 

“Inquisitor? I mean, Cadash! How are you old friend? You had Bianca getting nervous.” Varric clapped her in a tight hug. 

“We wouldn’t want that now would we?” She said, smiling. Cadash, once called the Inquisitor (and still called that by a select few) chose to return to her Carta surname after the events of three years ago. Her real first name was Malika but years of working in the surface dwarf crime clan Cadash taught her that names were secrets and she had precious few of those left. 

“I see Bianca’s dagger arm is working well,” he gestured to where her left arm, devoid of an actual hand, joined to a leather attachment that could sport a short blade. At the moment it was empty. “What brings you here to my humble city?” Varric spread his arms wide, gesturing at the bounty of trash and odd smells that was Lowtown. He had tried to start several restoration projects as Viscount with Hawke but usually the streets got dirty again within a week. He needed to institute some sort of trash pick up service and some modern plumbing, but that took coin that he didn’t have. 

“Oh, a job actually. You know Lord Bolen?”

“That idiot noble in my Keep today asking for nug poison because they keep eating the cabbages in his fields? Yeah, unfortunately.”

“Well, he’s not actually trying to keep them out of his cabbages. He wants them out of his mine. His red lyrium mine.” Cadash raised her eyebrows at him.

“For fuck’s sake!” Varric swore loudly. “How long will we be cleaning up this stupid red lyrium crap? I’m sick of it.” 

Red Lyrium made people crazy. Literally. Even dwarves, who were immune to the effects of lyrium, and magic in general, could feel its effects. Varric didn’t what to know what kind of sick person was actually mining the stuff after everything that happened three years ago. 

“Anyways,” continued Cadash. “His miners are “disappearing” mysteriously, or start acting mad. The families turned to the Red Jennies for help. I’m just supposed to take him out. Someone else is taking care of the mine.” She looked over at Varric. “How’s the retired life?”

He barked a laugh. “Great. Everyday I clean up people’s messes and try to make a difference. Right now I’m trying to design a sewer system. Good times.”

“Hmm. I guess it’s nice to live a quiet life. Hey, since I’m here, do you want to help me on this job? A little taste of old times?”

“Oh, Maker yes.” He liked to say he enjoyed the life of a Viscount. He got to work with his best friend Hawke, make up grand stories about her, lord over people, and ignore all the guilds that wanted him dead. Also, he liked to think he was helping Kirkwall and the rest of the Free Marches rebuild after the devastation of the infighting with the Qunari and the recent war with Corypheus. His first law was to ban taking, mining, selling, distributing, talking about, and thinking about red lyrium. But he missed the excitement he used to have in his life. Maybe not “an old Tevinter magister darkspawn hybrid trying to kill everyone and enslaving people using a highly volatile crystal” but something better than making fighting nobles get along. He supposed eventually he’d get back into the gist of it when Solas reared his head again, but until then he needed something to occupy his time. 

“What’s the job? Breaking and killing?” He chuckled. 

“Pretty much. Sera wanted to come along but this is supposed to be a secret mission and she’s about as secret as a dragon running up to you yelling, ‘Shite!’”

“I need to save that for my next book: that’s an amazing characterization.”

“Feel free. Cassandra loved your last one, by the way.” Cadash grinned at him. Cassandra was now Divine Victoria but she still let herself have the simple pleasures of a good smutty book.

“I’m not sure why I continue that serial. I think she’s the only one that buys it.” Varric shook his head. His best book, of course, had to do with the Champion herself, Hawke. His next best was a brief history of the past three years with the Inquisition. Cadash wondered if he was going to write about the next big war against the god-elf-mage Solas. Probably. 

They walked along the dark alley. Lord Bolen had a shipping office down by the docks, which, if Cadash’s information was correct, was where he stored his goods and did inventory checks every three days. The large cargo shipping crates were the perfect size for two dwarves to hide behind and observe a bunch of lyrium smugglers. 

Varric had Bianca loaded and ready. “I count eight goons and one leader. I recognize them, too. They’re part of Hawke’s old smuggler company.” 

The workers began loading the crates of illegal substance onto a small boat, most likely to take it to the ship for sale later. A tall man held a candle board like Josephine used to use and scribbled notes on it as each crate went by. 

“All of them or just him?” Varric asked.

“Just him. We don’t want a fight with Athenril’s gang.” Cadash pulled a small black bottle from her belt. “Night, night, goons.” She tossed the vial over the crate and it broke on impact with the dock planks. A cloud of dark smoke fell over all the workers.

“Protect the merchandise!” Shouted a voice in the throng. 

“Cover me, please, Lord Bolen just shouted out his location.” Cadash wiped out her blade and disappeared into the inky black smoke. Varric held Bianca and pegged a confused smuggler in the foot, trapping him so he couldn’t move. He heard a quick curse, a rather grotesque bone crunching noise, and the snick of a blade being holstered. A second later Cadash returned, panting. “Let’s go!”

They ran all the way to The Hanged Man before stopping. “I think we’ve earned a drink Inquisitor!” They were both sweating and breathing hard and took a moment to look normal before entering the tavern. “This place brings back good, but also terrifying memories.” Varric said, gesturing to the rooms above. 

“I forgot you used to live here back when you were pissing off Qunari and not working with them.” Cadash ordered two drinks from the bar and paid the barman a little extra for some bread and cheese to be brought over to them. 

“Yeah, not a good life choice to piss them off. Hawke tried her best to keep things calm but with the Viscount’s death and Anders blowing up the damn Chantry…” 

“You never wrote much about that part of the Champion’s tale, Varric, I wonder why,” Cadash hid her face in her drink so he couldn’t see the laugh in her eyes. 

“I’m really not into getting my friends arrested for murder, even if he did commit the murder. Plus, imprisoning him wouldn’t hurt anyone but the prison. Justice might blow that up too.” Varric tore a hunk of bread off the loaf and coated it liberally with butter. “Back in the day Blondie was my humor buddy. No one joked like him. When Justice started taking over he changed. Much less fun to have a spirit of angry vengeance rather than your blonde funny friend.”

“You have bad luck with friends that turn out to be spirits.” Cadash thought of Anders, Cole, and Solas, to an extent.

“Starting to pick that up, thank you.” Varric said grimly, taking a large swig of his drink. “Anyways how are you doing? How’s Tiny and you?” Varric took a good look at her. Earlier her face was shrouded in darkness so he could’t really see her. Now in the tavern lights he saw her completely. Cadash’s face was drawn, new stress lines presented on her forehead. Her forest green eyes were sunken in slightly. Dark circles rimmed them and they were slightly puffy, like she had cried earlier instead of sleeping. Her normally shiny dark auburn hair was dulled to a rusty brown.

“I’m doing great. The secret Inquisition is eliminating early threats of Solas and building quiet alliances along with the Wardens and the Templars Cullen is weaning off Lyrium. The Red Jennies are as ambiguous as ever. Every once in a while I get a letter with a name, a location, and some background from Sera so I go distract myself. Life is good for now.” Cadash looked down at her drink and swirled it around.

“Listen, your Inquisitorialness, I’m not Ben-Hassrath but I know when someone’s lying to me. My time in the Merchant’s Guild was good for one thing at least.” Varric wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. 

“Didn’t you meet Bianca in the Merchant’s Guild?”

“I’m still not sure that was a good thing. And don’t change the subject.” He looked hard at her. “You don’t look well, Cadash. And since I’m your closest friend besides the one who sleeps in your bed, you better start talking.”

Cadash looked away. She was so good at hiding away all her emotions, putting them into little storage crates in her mind. During the time of the full fledged Inquisition she was so busy that she never had time to process any emotions besides working hard and fear for her people. She almost longed for the stress of a war against a terrible ancient magister. “The calm is… difficult.”

“You should get a hobby.”

“I have a hobby. We never see each other.” 

“Is that what this is about?” Varric glanced at her. “I never pegged you for a romantic.”

“I never was. Before the Inquisition I was in the Carta, trying to survive and make a living so one day I could get out and start a real life. The Conclave was going to be my last job. Then the Inquisition happened. And now I’m mostly free, working for the Inquisition, doing odds and ends jobs with the Red Jennies. But… the freedom isn’t what I really wanted. I miss my friends. I miss Iron Bull. Sometimes I can’t sleep because he’s off doing Maker knows what with Maker knows who and his Chargers. I miss him more than I’ve missed anyone in my entire life.” 

Cadash let her eyes fall to the ground. She couldn’t help but feel shame over her emotions. She wasn’t a child. She lived as a spy and a smuggler and ran an entire army with the Inquisition. She thought she knew how to avoid attachment, at least real love attachment. But these feelings were strong, and she couldn’t shake them, and it scared her. 

“I can’t give you very good advice in the love department, Boss.” He patted his crossbow. “This Bianca has been here for me more than the real one ever has.” 

“I’m sorry. I know you have much more to deal with than the issues I’m trying to unload on you.” Cadash said, rubbing her face wearily. “I’ve actually just had a letter from Bull. The Chargers are going to be in the Western Approach for the next few weeks. Apparently the Quillbacks are attacking the miners. Bull is excited because there’ve been rumors of a High Dragon, too.” 

“Are you going to go see him?” Varric asked quietly. He knew what it felt like to be in love with someone who was never there, although an entire guild wasn’t trying to kill Cadash and Bull for being together. 

“I don’t know. Most of the time I get there too late and he’s been gone for days. I try to ride and catch up with him but that only works every once in a while… I’m not sure why I’m sharing this with you.” She grinned sheepishly. “I guess sometimes everyone needs to tell the storyteller their own story.”

“I am here to serve, Boss.” Varric waved down a tavern girl for another drink. “Talking to me and booze will make you feel much better.”

“Cullen has his home for retired Templars. Cassandra has no time for these trivial matters as Divine and secret Inquisition council member. I can’t find Cole right now: he’s off in the Fade. Blackwall went back to the Wardens. I was never very friendly with Vivienne but she’s off with her own Circle. Sera ran off with Dagna. Dorian is back in Tevinter, though we do talk often with his new message crystals, which is nice. Leliana is grooming her new spies, avoiding me. Josephine is back in Antiva with her family. You’re here in Kirkwall palling around with Hawke and making up excuses when she goes to visit Anders. I feel trapped, Varric. I feel terrible when Bull isn’t with me. I have no one to talk to at Skyhold, not like I can talk to him.”

“Um, I hope you don’t talk to anyone like you talk to him.” Varric chuckled and ducked as she tossed crumbs at him. 

“You know what I meant!” laughed Cadash. “But… I feel like I’m suffocating. I never know if he’s alive or dead. I never know where he is. His letters tell me nothing. It’s starting to affect my work- the other day I got a stern talk from Cassandra asking me if I was doing okay because I completely mixed up her orders. I’m not, Varric. I’m doing terribly and I can’t explain that to anyone because I was the Herald and then the Inquisitor and I’m not allowed to be this messed up over something so asinine as a long distance relationship.” 

“I know the feeling, Boss.” He glanced at Bianca sadly. “You should tell him how you feel. The thing between Bianca and I got this way because we refuse to talk about all the crap that’s wrong. We hold on stubbornly to what we have without ever going forward. If you want to travel with him, ask to join the Chargers. I don’t see why you can’t.”

“I won’t lie, I’ve thought about it. Do you think it’ll work? He isn’t really into being ‘official’.” 

“What can it hurt? You’re already torturing yourself much more than a ‘no’ ever could.”

“Thanks, Varric,” she said. “I’m glad I bumped into you.”

“Boss, I know you were stalking me to see how I was doing. It’s the chest hair.”

“It’s the chest hair.”


	2. Sand and Sweat

Chapter Two

The Western Approach was hot and arid. The sand stung Cadash as it whipped by and landed in any nook it could get into. She was mostly wrapped up, apart from her hair, and a slit for her eyes in the face scarf she wound tightly against her nose and mouth. The helmet that went with her armor would’ve been useful but she couldn’t stand the noise the sand made against the metal. It reminded her too much of the buzzing of the rifts and the Breach. Plus, the sun was like to roast her inside the shiny armor. Instead, Cadash chose a thick leather armor to ride in. It was still hotter than a Ferelden Frostback’s left testicle but she wasn’t being burned quite as bad. 

She rode into the camp late that evening. The Chargers weren’t on any kind of covert mission so she found their small cook fire easily. Dalish waved to her as she dismounted and led Horse to a small water trough nearby. 

“The Chief and Krem are having a heated discussion about how to take down the dragon tomorrow.” Dalish pointed toward the larger main tent farthest away from the cook fire and up against a large dune. There was angry shouting coming from the tent and a string of curse words in loud Qunlat.

“You didn’t stay at the Griffon Wing Keep?” Cadash asked as Horse drank noisily and snorted several times, shaking the flies off. 

“You know the Chief. He likes to work his own way even if he’s working for his own people.” Stitches shrugged from over by the fire. 

He was turning over what looked suspiciously like wild Malbari on the spit. It hissed and crackled as the juices hit the flames. Cadash heard her stomach growl longingly against her will and turned away abruptly to distract herself. She looked over at the tent and said, “Wish me luck.”

The flaps to the tent were tied together with leather to keep most of the flying sand at bay. Cadash could hear Krem and Bull clearly as she undid the straps. Once again she found herself wishing she had both arms. Straps are ridiculously difficult to manage one-handed, she thought. She finally got the damn straps lose and entered the tent. Bull’s back was to her and he was gesturing wildly at Krem, who was so focused on arguing that he didn’t see her in the shadows. Thankfully it wasn’t too windy when she opened the tent flaps either so she was able to see and not be noticed. 

“DIRECT ATTACK, KREM!” roared the Iron Bull. He smashed his fist into the table, almost knocking over the candelabrum that was helping a tiny pit fire provide some light in the tent.

“Boss, no. Look, we have all the good people here- Stitches, Dalish, Grim, Rocky, Skinner- all the best we have. We can’t afford to lose anyone. A sneak attack would be the safest.”

“Yes Krem but where’s the honor and glory in sneaking up on a dragon instead of facing it like a man! _UGH_.” Iron Bull sighed and absentmindedly scratched a horn. I do see your point, however. I will think on it and get back to you during dinner. I saw Stitches nabbed a Malbari! I think they taste better in the wild.” 

“If you say so, Chief.” Krem looked doubtfully at Bull. He then noticed Cadash standing in the dark of the tent. “Inquisitor!”

“Krem you know I don’t use that title anymore! How’s the wife?” She grinned and gave him a hug.

“Oh so you heard about the wedding? Good. Yeah, I finally get what my father was taking about when he said ‘happy wife, happy life.’” Krem laughed and ran a sheepish hand through his hair. “She’s in Val Royeaux right now studying more music.” Cadash secretly thought that anyone willing to take her on was generous but said nothing to Krem about it. 

“Kadan.” Bull was standing next to the war table, his fist gripping the worn wood and his eyes reflecting the firelight. 

“I’ll leave you to catch up then,” Krem said slyly. “What has it been? Four months since you’ve seen each other?”

“Five.” They both answered at once. Krem laughed and pushed out of the tent. 

***************************************************

 

Their first go of it after a long break was always very insistent. This time was no different. In two large paces Bull was up to her. He was massive, much bigger than her but yet the perfect size. She came up to just over his waist. His hands were the size of a plate but as nimble as a cat. He tugged at her leather armor and ripped the fabric of the tunic underneath.

“Why do you even bother covering up when you first arrive?” He growled into her neck as he gripped her ass and picked her up against the large middle support beam of the tent.

“Because I know you like to do this.” Her breath hitched as he got the last article of clothing off her and put his mouth to each breast. “Maker you’re good,” She whispered, letting her hands run over his shoulders. 

He had his pants partially undone and she could already tell that this foreplay wasn’t going to last long. Bull set her down and swept a hand over the war table, knocking over the candelabrum and making the tent slightly darker. He tugged off his shoulder armor and started to work on getting his pants completely off. 

“I have missed you, Kadan,” He said, staring at her naked figure. She personally didn’t feel very attractive, but he scooped her up onto the war table and spread her legs. “I knew I liked you, you don’t even need any loosening up!” He laughed- a deep warming laugh that left her wanting more. He ran his hands down her thighs and was on top of her in moments. She wondered if he would try to tease her. Normally she loved the tricks and toys they used but right now she just wanted him to take her. Five months of longing made the waiting hard. 

He seemed to read her mind. “I can’t wait any longer!” He said rather loudly, making her blush and check that the tent was at least closed, wishing it was soundproof, but secretly enjoying his enthusiasm. She let out a small squeak of pleasure when he entered her. She had her Bull back, finally. The sweat from the day clung to her and mixed with his, she was too hot but needed the wet touch of his warm body. He thrust intently until she felt the familiar plateau of pleasure and they crashed together as they had so many times before. 

***********************************  
She looked at the Iron Bull. He was engrossed in cleaning his armor; the worn but strong leather shining from his careful polishing in the glow from the fire. How was he always so confident? He could sit by the fire completely naked, cleaning his gear, while she couldn't even bring up the idea of joining the Chargers. She gripped the blanket around her tightly, despite the heat of the fire and the heat of the region.

"Don't be an idiot" she told herself. When she talked to Varric two weeks ago she was so confident about her decision. She knew exactly what she wanted to say, she had all of her arguments lain out and anticipated his counter-arguments. He wouldn't say it was too dangerous; they'd already been through fighting Corypheus. How could anything be more dangerous than that?

"Kadan, you're staring at the fire like someone contemplating jumping in," remarked Bull. He had ceased cleaning the armor and was watching her.

“I can’t ever keep secrets from you, can I?” She smiled ruefully and shook her head. “No, not exactly jumping in. Just a lot on my mind recently.”

“Old Ben-Hassrath, remember? Care to unload your burden a little?” Bull put down his cleaning and started to unroll an enormous (for her) sleeping pallet closer to the fire. He sat down and patted next to him for her to join him. She hopped off the war table, still draped in the blanket. The desert was beginning to cool as the stars appeared. They laid back, his arm around her, stroking her hair as she rested on his chest, curled up by his side. “That is… a lot of sand in your hair, Kadan.”

“Then cease touching it.”

“We could bathe together if you wish. I know you enjoy romantic things like that.” His fingers dug at the tangles in her hair, gently removing the knots. “I know you’re keeping something from me, though. Every day I make the choice to give you my heart, even when you are not here, but I cannot fight a battle for you if you don’t let me in the gates.”

She looked intently at him, rising up on her elbow and then pushing herself up farther so she could look into his eye. “Iron Bull, there are some things I face that I don’t believe you want to fight for.”

“Whatever you face you face with me.”

“You read Blackwall before anyone else could and still forgave him because you could tell that underneath the lie was a good man trying to redeem himself. Not unlike you, love. But for all of your people skills you lack actual people skills- at least people skills with me in the context of our relationship.” She was acutely aware that she sounded like a moon-struck teenager trying to quibble with her first beau for extra attention. “ _Ugh_ look, Bull. I know what I signed up for when we began this relationship. I am your Kadan, and you are mine. I know you care for me as deeply as you are able to. It’s just… lately I’ve needed more than that. I need to be with you. I need to be able sit and talk to you like this every night. I need to be able to walk into your room and feel like I have a partner against all the chaos that exists in my life. I know you support me, but sometimes I need you to be _there_.” Her hand was covered in callouses from years of gripping a weapon and she rubbed at them nervously. “If only I could fight the feelings away like you do, Bull. Maybe I wouldn’t be such a sap. What I’m trying to ask is: can I join the Chargers? You know I’m a damn good dagger master, especially with the new blade arm Bianca made for me, and I’ve perfected my trap skills. I’m also small, so easy to hide. People feel bad for cripples. Especially girl ones so I’ll be less likely to be targeted.” She waved the shorter arm at him. 

“Kadan…What you ask, please, do not.” 

Cadash had yammered on for so long out of nervousness that she just realized he had turned away from her. The Iron Bull put his face in his hands and rested them on his knees. She felt her heart sink and harden slightly. This was an Iron Bull who already made up his mind. Nothing she could say would change it. Her efforts were for nothing. There was a burning sensation behind her eyes but she forced herself to keep a blank face.

“I would like to hear your rebuttals at least,” she said defiantly, biting her lip so it wouldn’t betray her true feelings by wobbling childishly. 

He could tell she was being stoic for him and he was irrationally proud of it. She was so much more independent than she seemed. A giantess in a dwarf’s body. The rage of a thousand injustices and defender of the innocent in a shell he could crush with his right hand. Her deep green eyes stared into his icy gray one. “I can’t.” 

“I suppose one day our _needs_ would change. I hoped that we would change together but I suppose not.” Cadash lashed out, quoting him on the reason they began the relationship in the first place so many years ago. She rose and began donning the ripped tunic and armor. “I think that our time together is ended then. I refuse to be with someone who would rather me feel a crushing sense of loneliness than allow me to tag along and have adventures with him.”

“Where are you going? It's dark and your horse is tired!” 

“The Keep is just over the ridge. I can go there. Maybe boost some morale with my presence.” She was boiling over, but she kept her face deadpan. _He doesn’t want me here, he just wants someone to come home to every once in a while_. “Many years ago you told me that I would always be safe, but I don’t feel safe without you. I don’t feel safe not knowing for months if you’re alive or dead.”

The Iron Bull just gazed at her sadly and silently. He knew he had no good arguments against her joining the Chargers except an enormous desire to keep her out of harms way. She had played the Game well in Orlais but could she play it for the rest of her life as a mercenary? What future could he truly offer her?

Cadash took this silence as a sign of defeat. She couldn’t contain her emotions any longer and a tear slipped down her cheek before she hastily wiped it away. She dug around in her pack, pulling out the ornate dragon tooth half that matched the one he had. “Here,” she said quietly, holding it out to him. “I will not just set it down, you must take it from me. Isn’t that tradition?” her hand shook slightly as she held it. Bull’s eyebrows shot up. “I can’t be your Kadan like this and you can’t be mine. And… I can’t keep this. It is a part of you and every time I see it I’ll see you.”

Still silent, Iron Bull raised a heavy hand and took it from her. He knew he should say something- for fuck’s sake, _anything_. But he couldn’t get the words out. They were stuck under a million pounds of tongue and choices he couldn’t explain.

“Thank you for everything, Bull,” Cadash forced a simple smile. “The sex was great and your love was sweet. Goodbye.” 

She gave up on tugging the rough leather vest over the tunic and opened up the tent. The roar of wind and sand hit her and whipped her hair around her face. The tears finally fell, mixing with the whirling dust, and made her tears tracks of mud. 

Her tunic was badly ripped and was doing a terrible job at protecting her. Thankfully the simple cotton pants survived so she had plenty of cover down there. As she approached the cook fire turned campfire, Krem and the others greeted her with chuckles and remarks. Normally she would have found them embarrassing and hilarious, but right now, they just made her feel worse. She tried to wipe away some more of the mud caked to her face but it smeared everywhere instead. The wind died down closer to the men so she was free from the torments of the swirling sand. 

“I know Horse is tired, but I need to go to the Keep tonight, please. Could someone get him ready for me?” She forced what she hoped was a normal sounding voice. Everyone stared at her. She could tell they all saw her tears and it became exceedingly difficult to hold them back. “Please?” she whispered, looking at the ground to avoid feeling their pity. 

“Is the Chief okay?” Krem asked softly. He saw the signs of incredible sadness on her face, and wanted to comfort her, but his first loyalty was to Iron Bull.

“He and I… he… I wanted more than he was able to give me, and I can’t expect him to change for me. He would never want me to change for him.” She looked defiantly at the Chargers, daring them to ask more questions. 

“Love sucks,” said Rocky simply. 

“Listen, Grim- please go get Horse saddled. Inquisitor, why don’t you wait in my tent away from _prying eyes_.” He glared at the company. “Get back to your tents!” He lead her into his private tent and sat her down across from him at a tiny table he had shoved into it. An oil lamp lit the tent with a warm, soft glow. “So. You asked to be in the Chargers and he said no.” 

She looked at him with wide eyes. All the anger frustration, fear, sadness, and stress she’d been feeling and hiding suddenly clawed its way out and she broke down into deep, loud sobs. “I just wanted to be closer to him! I’m a great fighter! Even with only one arm! I’ve worked for the Red Jennies! I’m a great spy! But he wouldn’t even hear me out. He said nothing at all! I can’t live every day without him anymore. I can’t go months without seeing him, wondering if he’s still alive or waiting for a letter. I refuse to feel this loneliness I’m crushed under without him by my side. I suppose he just doesn’t feel the same way.” She rubbed the tears away from her face roughly. 

“You’re wrong,” said Krem. “He misses you more than you could ever imagine. The couple of weeks after you visit or he visits you are filled with his laughter. But without you he becomes Ben-Hassrath again. He is a spy, hyper aware of people and how to manipulate them. Sometimes he even becomes reckless, like he wants to be with this stupid high dragon. I think he believes that if he does something crazy enough the news’ll spread around and you’ll hear of it and think of him.” He pulled out a small portrait of Maryden from one of the drawers. “And you aren’t the only one affected by distance. I miss her every day.” 

“But you know she will finish her studies and then come back to you.”

“Will she? She’s a musician. She’ll travel from tavern to tavern to sing, or from stage to stage. We will be like ships passing in the night, hardly ever seeing each other until one of us quits doing what we love in order to be together.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do here, Krem!”

“But he doesn’t want you to. He never wanted to get in the way of the good work you do. Whether in the Red Jennies or in the secret Inquisition. If you quit then who will lead? Also, what we do as the Bull’s Chargers isn’t always vanilla. We have to do work for some dirty people in order to get paid. Sometimes innocent people die. Bull would never forgive himself if you were hardened like he is.”

“I just want to be with him. I want to be by his side. I realize how childish that sounds but it’s what I need. I suppose it isn’t what he needs now though, and I refuse to be a “kept” romantic interest.”

“IS THAT WHAT YOU THINK I’M FUCKING AFTER?” The Iron Bull snapped the flaps of the tent shut behind him. Sand stuck in the cracks of the armor he had just lovingly cleaned and his pants looked like they had been hastily thrown on before he stalked over to Krem’s tent. “Woman, I’ve been following in your dwarfy footsteps for years now. Have I ever restricted you? Told you I needed something different from you from what you could give? Like Cole says when he does his weird shit and reads your mind, I _let_ you be in control and just seem like I’m in charge. You could never be “kept” whether I wanted to or not!”

“Then why can’t I join you? Why must I be pushed at arm length until I am fetched? Half the time the letter reaches me late and I come to visit to find you’ve already left! I can’t do that any more. I can’t be in a constant state of not knowing if you’re even alive.”

“I would rather be dead than have you give up on the Inquisition’s work or the Red Jennies. You help people, and my Chargers don’t always work for the good guys. I can’t watch you put up defenses and walls to make people not people when you kill them like I do. I don’t want to see you corrupted by my line of work.”

“Isn’t that a choice I should be allowed to take?” She glared at him. “You chose me over the Qunari you spied for knowing that they could retaliate by killing you or killing me, or even going after your company. But you chose to do it because you loved us. I should be afforded the same choice.”

Bull glanced hopelessly at Krem. “I thought you were going to help me! You know I can’t do well with the words!”

“Chief, maybe I have a better idea. One that will help both of you.” Krem was rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “The company travels far and wide, yes? But the Inquisition needs to travel and so do the Red Jennies. Say the Inquisitor travels with us. She gets to spread the word, act like a diplomat, kill some deserving asshat nobles, and we do our job. Everybody wins.”

Cadash thought it through. Krem was right, without the large invasion Inquisition people soon forgot about the trouble with Solas and the Qunari. Leliana and Josephine needed a larger network, and her influence could provide an opportunity for many new alliances. “That… Is a pretty good idea,” she said rather lamely.

“Shit Krem, where did you learn to think like that?” Bull looked at Krem with a kind of proud amazement. 

“You, Chief.”

“Alright. Kadan, does this work for you because it sure as fuck works for me.” Iron Bull looked at her intently. “As long as you stay away from Charger work unless specifically asked by me to intervene. I can’t have you become me. I would never forgive myself.” 

“I can handle myself, but yes, I agree.” 

And for the first time in three years Cadash felt as light as a feather.


	3. Dwarven Toothpick

Chapter Three

The Iron Bull wisely allowed Cadash to come with him and the Chargers to slay the High Dragon camped out a few miles away. Of course, if he had tried to stop her she would’ve laughed and come anyway. 

Cadash was in high spirits as they packed up their gear for the day. “This is just like old times, isn’t it Bull? The smell of the sand, beating a dragon, showing the world who’s boss! I’ve missed this!” 

“Don’t forget the part where we have vigorous sex afterward,” Iron Bull laughed loudly. 

Instantly chastised, Cadash shot him a reproachful look. “You can ‘think about it with great respect’ _yourself_ if you keep that up.”

“Oh, Kadan! Be still my heart- I never knew you had such playful banter!” Bull shot back at her. “After this, we find a tavern! Eh, Chargers?” There was a loud cheer from the entire party.

“Chief,” cut in Krem urgently. “Did you think about the points we discussed? What’s the battle plan here?”

“Krem, this is one dragon. We are many experienced fighters. If we were taking on a group of Tal-Vashoth I would understand your concern, but for now I’m calculating minimal damage to us and maximum damage to that ass of a giant lizard.” Bull waved his second in command’s concerns away dismissively. In the past he had only fought dragons with three other people and they generally did well. He was trained to be hyper-vigilant, but he couldn’t foresee any extreme danger. How many times had he and Cadash run straight into trouble like this with hardly any plans at all?

Cadash was thinking _almost_ the same thing. Her mind wandered over to the days of the Inquisition where they spent days searching remote areas for signs of Corypheus or fighting against rifts and demons. She remembered the thrill of travelling far and wide with her friends. Cadash hardened at that thought: Solas had been one of her closest friends during that time. Now what was he? A friend? An enemy? She still couldn’t quite work it out. She wanted to be angry with him but all she felt was a mix between disappointment and saddness. Too many of her happy memories contained Solas that she had a difficult time wrapping her mind around the idea that he wanted to rip the Fade back open, possibly (probably) killing everyone in the process. 

The wicked desert wind and sun burned at the company as they trudged along the dunes. “Hey, Krem,” Iron Bull said in a dangerously mocking voice.  
Krem sighed. “Yes, Chief?”

“I spy with my little eye ( _giggle_ )….” 

“No! You’re just going to say sand.” Krem rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be such a kill-joy! I was _going_ to say my lover’s ass. It’s the perfect eye-spy. No one would want to guess it but it’s all I’m looking at right now!” Bull chortled. 

“If a rift opened up right now, in front of us, I would push you in and feel no regret, my love.” Cadash smiled at him.

“Woah, there! When did you turn into Vivienne?”

“That was a pretty good impression, wasn’t it?” She laughed with him. 

*****************************

The Western Approach stretched on for miles. Cadash studied the patterns in the dunes and in the intricate rock formations. How long had the wind buffeted the rock into deep canyons and high, sand-speckled peaks? They passed a large dwarven statue that sat half buried in the sand. She never really identified with dwarven culture. She was exiled before she was even born, which seemed incredibly unfair to her. She had never seen Orzammar in its glory, only a few dirty back roads on a smuggling job. It was incredibly ironic: Orzammar prided itself on being “pure” and staying underground, they exiled those who traded with the surface, and deeply distrusted everyone who didn’t fit tradition; yet they desperately needed the surface world to survive. They needed its economy, but also its food and sustenance items. Cadash wondered what it would be like to ignore such a vital part of everyday life and scoff at the mention of it. Dwarves were stubborn and foolish, and she grudgingly conceded herself into that stereotype. 

“It looks like nothing has changed since the last time we were here checking out this place.” Iron Bull fell in step beside her, which was a major slowdown for him. Most of the time he strode far ahead of her and she was forced to run to keep up. At least it contributed to a trim waist and powerful legs, which helped in a fight. _Hit quick and hit hard_ , her trainer said when she first began working for the Carta. Being a dwarf meant working harder to take down a larger opponent, and most of the time that was working on quickness and force. Cadash was already naturally less of a warrior due to size- training as rogue made her much more deadly. 

“I know. I was just thinking about it. This place is so old already, how long has it stood here? How much longer will it last? How long will it outlast us?” She mused to him. 

“You are fascinating, Kadan. We’re about to go kill a dragon like barbarians and you’re thinking about the inevitability of death and the philosophy of the desert.” Bull put his hand on her shoulder affectionately. 

“What were you taught about death? Do you have an afterlife?” Cadash asked curiously. She tried not to open old wounds by asking about the Qunari since Iron Bull was branded Tal-Vashoth. Usually Bull would offer up nuggets of information about his past life and she accepted it. 

He told her a little of his childhood last time they were together, and made it sound very sweet for growing up in a controlling and militant atmosphere. He grew up under the care of a kind Tamassran (for the Qunari) and enjoyed his training and work. He was incredibly proud when they picked him for Ben-Hassrath, the spy and assassination sect of the priesthood. It meant he was smart and deadly and he enjoyed that. He grew to fear demons and to an extent, magic, while travelling the world. The mages were volatile and the magisters were cruel in Seheron. It wasn’t really until the Inquisition that he trusted any mage.

“Death is a part of life. You accept it as you accept your role in society, and go towards it gladly. The body is simply a husk for the soul, and in the case of the warriors, the weapon is the true soul. The view of an afterlife is foggy though. Those studying in the priesthood would be better suited for this question.” Iron Bull said thoughtfully. “What about you?”

“You would think my time as the Herald would sway me to believe something but I’m still not sure. I was taught as a kid to respect the Stone, but I never had a connection with the underground god. Plus bumping into a real live elven god doesn’t make me feel any more confident about a true religion. Maybe we’re all just part of someone’s imagination and people are just making the choices for us.” 

“This is too deep a subject to casually chat about before we slay a dragon. Ask me again when I’m drunk, Kadan, and you’ll get a better answer.”

Cadash laughed and punched his arm lightly. “Alright, my love. I’ll be sure to bring up politics next time we hook up, too.”

“ _UGHHH_ you are evil!” Bull joked back. 

****************  
When the sun was at its highest they found the lair. Smaller dragonlings the size of Horse walked around the edge of the oasis the High Dragon was calling home.

“I’d call it an Abyssal,” said Krem, shading his eyes from the heat and staring down into the ravine. 

“Another one? We just killed the last one not three years ago. These things must not be as extinct as they say.” Cadash cupped her hands around her eyes to block out the light and see the dragon better. “Shit, you’re right, Krem. Looks exactly the same as the last one except _bigger_.”

“Stitches, we’re gonna make camp here as a quick homebase. You stay, set up your supplies. I have a feeling we might need a lot of elfroot. Dalish: ice powers, lots of ice powers—“

“You mean ice _arrows_ , Chief….” Dalish protested.

“You know what I fuckin’ mean Dalish, we aren’t in the company of anyone who’d blackmail you right now. Rocky, I hope you have plenty of grenades. Krem, me and you are going to get either side and hammer the shit out of it. Skinner, you and Cadash are in stab n’ slash mode. Get in fast and cut through as much as you can. Grim… Just do what you do.”

“Humph,” grunted Grim.

Cadash had seen the Iron Bull take control before, but never like this. His team moved with efficiency and ease like a well oiled clock. He told orders with authority and intuition, placing each person in their most valuable location and offering tips for the best strategy. She found herself following his orders automatically. He was truly born to lead. 

They crept down the side of the sandy ravine down into the oasis, trying their best to stay hidden from the large and small dragons prowling the area. As a rogue Cadash found it easy to turn almost invisible and perfectly silent, but trying to hide Iron Bull and friends was slightly more difficult. All the assassin training in the world couldn’t cover up Bull’s horns and gigantic frame, even if he was doing an excellent job of sneaking. The group was only 30 yards or so away from the Abyssal when a dragonling spotted them and screeched mercilessly. 

“GO!” bellowed the Iron Bull.

They all ran down the remaining yards as the Abyssal roared and smoked. A stream of white-hot flames shot from its mouth and it flapped its wings  
threateningly. 

“Positions!”

Cadash stayed by Skinner and they charged underneath the dragon. She had fitted on her new blade arm and shined it up so that it sparkled in the sun against the dragon’s scales. In her other hand she held another dagger, and she began slicing furiously at the tender spots behind the dragon’s leg joints. Skinner was taking her sword to the underneath of the wings.

“Cut off its mobility!” Cadash cried to Skinner over another roar of the dragon. 

Meanwhile, Grim and Rocky were placing cold-bombs all around the dragon, trying to confuse it and expose a weakness. Dalish hailed blast after blast of ice at the creature and Krem and Iron Bull attacked it from the front. 

Everything went smoothly for a while. Cadash dropped off the main dragon to take out a few dragonlings threatening Dalish. She looked over and saw the dragon snap at Iron Bull. Suddenly the world stopped. In an instant she could see that he wasn’t going to move out of the way in time to avoid a serious bite. She launched herself at the beast’s head, jumping in front of Bull and taking the bite… directly on her blade arm. Confused, the dragon pulled back, blood streaming from its mouth. Unfortunately, in the process of biting down, Cadash’s blade arm became firmly stabbed into its thick, pink gums. 

The dragon screeched and shook its head, shaking Cadash as well. She was now at least ten feet off the ground and going higher as the dragon strained its neck in an effort to escape the pain. 

“A LITTLE HELP HERE, PLEASE!” She yelled out to the others.

“Shit!” cursed Iron Bull as he saw her dangling from the mouth of the highly confused dragon. “Can you detach it?”

Cadash pulled at the leather straps anchoring the prosthetic to the end of her arm. “Buckles are stuck! I’m going to try and cut it off.” 

“For fuck’s sake! Ok, let me catch you!” Iron Bull positioned himself so that when she cut herself loose she wouldn’t fall too far. 

The straps were made of good quality leather and didn’t want to be cut. Cadash sawed furiously at them trying to get loose. The dragon was loosing its patience with this painful annoyance. It whipped its head furiously and gagged to dislodge her. Finally, it came to the conclusion that maybe it could burn whatever was stuck in its gums away. Cadash saw the fire in the back of its throat, yelped, and cut through just in time. She fell to the earth just as the dragon let out a huge eruption of fire. 

“Ouch! Way to catch me, Bull!” She waved her stump at him. 

“Did you happen to notice the _fire_ , Kadan? It’s very hot!” Bull roared at her. 

The dragon was getting exhausted. It flapped its great wings and roared. Finally, Dalish threw one more ice blast at it and Krem followed by hitting a well placed blow at its skull. It screeched piteously and fell, blood streaming from its crushed cranium. The dragonlings realized that their leader had perished and quickly retreated to a safe distance away. 

A cheer went up around the company. Rocky clapped Cadash on the back and said, “You know there are better ways to ride a dragon, right?”

“I’ll bear that in mind next time, thanks.” Cadash looked over to Iron Bull, who was doing his breathing ritual. “Damn. I really liked that arm. I wonder if Bianca would make me another?” 

“I thought you liked the last one, too,” Bull swatted her on the behind. “Good work everyone! Let’s head back to camp! Then find a tavern. I need a stiff drink to honor the thought of my lover swinging from the mouth of a dragon!”

**********

They made a plan when they all made it back to camp to follow the Orlesian roads the next day until they found an actual inn. Krem cracked a keg of something strong and burning and they all celebrated as the wind died down and the auroras began to dance across the sky. Iron Bull was drunk and roared to the crew about how magnificent the dragon was. Cadash felt pleasantly light and looked at the crew happily. This is exactly what she wanted. No one looking to her to decide the fate of the world. No one expecting her to keep it together and never make mistakes. She leaned her head against Iron Bull and heard his laughter and heartbeat mix together comfortingly. He smelled like sweat, leather, and cookfire. She felt herself drift off to sleep for a few moments, the happiest girl in the world. 

When she woke, it was deep night. The fire had gone down considerably. Most of the others went back to their tent to sleep off whatever alcohol Krem provided. Iron Bull sat with his back against the side of the dune and was singing softly, holding her to his chest. “Sera was never an agreeable girl...”

Cadash giggled weakly. “You know she hates that song!” Her mind was fuzzy, but the pleasant feeling was still there. 

“Kadan,” Bull said thickly, his eyelids drooping from lack of sleep and an abundance of drink. “You’re awake. Would you like to… move to our tent?”

“Ooo our tent is it now?” She ran her fingers over his shoulders. He picked her up as a bridegroom carries his bride and brought her into the tent. The room spun as he set her down and brought his mouth to hers. Cadash could feel his want and rose up to meet him. 

Iron Bull made a low groan in the back of his throat and began undoing her clothes. She tried to untie his breeches but drunkenness and only having one arm made that too difficult so she gave up and let him be in control. “I have very few toys here, Kadan,” He whispered into her ear. “But I have that silk scarf you like…” She squirmed as he gently tied her hand above her head. 

Qunari weren’t supposed to have sex for love, but together Iron Bull and Cadash made love and connected together as they always had. 

“I love you,” She moaned to him with her legs propped up against his horns. 

“I love you, too, Kadan.”


	4. Letters and Lies

Chapter Four

The next day Cadash was sore in places she hadn’t been sore in since she battled Rift demons on a daily basis. Her shoulders ached and she had bruises all over the remaining part of her left arm from the trauma it sustained being caught in the dragon’s mouth. 

“ _Owwww_ ,” She moaned, rolling over on the sleeping pallet. The Iron Bull was already awake, his icy grey eye watching her as she woke up. “How long was I asleep? _Ugh_ ….” She stretched and her sore muscles clamped down on her. 

“I thought you probably needed some rest. You’ve been off the hard jobs for a while now.” Bull smiled at her. Cadash moved over so she could prop herself up on his chest. She listened to his heartbeat and the sound of his steady breathing and he started rubbing her back.

“AhhhhOOWWW, gently, please! I’m not made of dragonhide like you are!” She swatted at him. 

“I’m trying to give you a romantic back massage and you are complaining about it? I guess we won’t take that rose petal bath either then,” Bull teased her. He raised himself up slightly so that their faces were even. He was so close to Cadash that she felt a little jolt in her chest. 

She loved these moments the best. She loved being able to talk to and examine Iron Bull. He was so secretive about many things, not necessarily to hide them from her, but because he was trained that way. Any glimpse into his soul was a gift and she cherished it. 

Cadash ran her fingers over the scars on his face and traced their beginnings and ends. Lightly, she brushed her finger over his lips and he sucked gently on them. “If you aren’t _too_ sore…” He trailed off mischievously. 

“You know me,” She said back. “I’m always up for a challenge.” She pressed her lips against his and let him pull her on top. She ran her hand over his right shoulder and chest, marveling at his physique for the billionth time. He let out a low groan and… 

Suddenly the tent was flooded with light. 

“Chief,” Krem was staring at the paper in his hand; some sort of letter. “I’ve finally got word on where those Quillbacks are and…” He looked up. Cadash, thankfully, covered most of the Iron Bull’s private areas but she had slept naked and now her breasts were on full display. Krem made a sort of gurgling noise.

“Come now Krem! This isn’t the first time you’ve walked in on me like this!” Iron Bull laughed loudly. 

“No, but it is the first time I’ve seen the Inquisitor like this.” Krem clamped his eyes shut as Cadash scrambled off to grab the blanket and cover herself. 

“Why does this always happen to us?” She asked in frustration, her face a lovely shade of tomato. 

“Because we are desirable and attractive, Kadan.”

“That is _not_ helping.”

Krem turned around and fanned himself with the letter. “Anyways,” he coughed. “The Keep sent us the location of the mine in trouble. It’s only a couple of miles away. If we leave within an hour we can get there around midday and be back before dark.” 

Cadash could only nod at him, struck dumb. Iron Bull waved at Krem as he left the tent. He never even bothered to cover up. 

“How are you always so confident?” Cadash wondered at him. 

“I am very handsome.” Iron Bull supplied. “But you probably want the real version. As a Qunari you have a role you play. And as a Ben-Hassrath you must do that well. I am confident in myself because that is the best way to play a part. To be a wealthy merchant you must be boisterous and loud enough to pass as a wealthy merchant. To lead a mercenary group you must be a strong and clever mercenary. I play these roles and have played these roles so long that I know I’m good at it.” 

“Does it ever bother you?” Cadash asked quietly. 

“Living most of my life as a pawn? Flopping from role to role, never putting down roots? Yeah, when you say it out loud it’s pretty shitty. But I’ve seen the world. Good parts and bad, good lovers—“ he shoved her playfully. “Bad lovers, evil mages and great ones, good warriors and bad, and every shade of intention you can have with every outcome you can expect. I’ve saved a lot of people’s asses and killed a lot more. I don’t know what else to tell you, Kadan.”

“But you get to start over now. After the dreadnought you were free to be who you wanted. You could’ve left me and the Inquisition but you stayed. You could’ve tried to win back the Qunari by betraying me to the Dragon’s Breath but you didn’t. You love me and that means you’re free to make your own choices.” She caressed his face. 

“No one is free, Kadan.” His kissed the top of her head as he stood to get dressed. “Everyone’s a slave to their choices, even the good choices like being with you.”

“An behind the hunter is a great philosopher, hidden deep down inside where no one is allowed to touch,” Cadash smiled sadly.

“Hey, there are a lot of other places you can touch if that’s what you’re interested in.” Bull rolled up her under tunic and smacked her backside with it.

************************

For the second time in as many days, Cadash found herself trudging though a hot dusty wasteland. Sand glittered in the wind as it reflected the midday sun. The Chargers wrapped themselves in linen strips to keep out a majority of the dirt and sun but they were still sweaty and uncomfortable. To keep her mind busy she counted all the little bones sticking out of the sand. Remnants of life now passed; bleached by the heat and sun and preserved by the dry, acrid air. She was up to forty-seven. 

“So this is less of a mine and more of a secret dwarven cave that the Chantry scholars are looking at. They asked the Keep soldiers for help and a little bird named Leliana probably told them to hire us,” a rag-person behind Cadash said. Probably Krem. 

“FUCK!” The Iron Bull swore loudly. “Did you say ‘ _secret dwarven cave_ ’? Do you know what’s usually in secret dwarven caves? Demons. Veilfire. Weird riddles. Secret veilfire rune things. All shit I dislike. Krem, why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

“I just found out this morning in a report from the Keep but you were a little… _busy_ this morning. I’d imagine Leliana also told them to lie to us so that we’d actually do the job.” Krem said sardonically. 

Cadash knew she should be afraid. Demons were terrifying creatures, spirits corrupted and burning in anguish, but she was incredibly excited. Dragons were one link to the past but demons were like she was right back in the height of the Inquisition. She actually skipped a little in anticipation. 

The dunes and rock rose up around them and provided shade so they could take a quick break. Cadash gulped down some water and tried to wash the sand out of her eyes. Iron Bull sat down heavily next to her and rested an elbow on her shoulder. “Demons and shit, eh? Are you thinking about old times?”

“Yes I was, actually. You always read my mind.” She snuggled up under his arm even though it was extremely hot out. He pressed his lips to the top of her head and they sat in silence. She drank up the closeness and intimacy of being near one another in public. He smelled like warm smoke and sweaty leather; familiar and comforting. 

They loaded back into gear and headed off toward the cave again. “Looks like we’re about a mile off,” said Krem, squinting at a map. Dalish twirled her staff and Rocky counted a few grenades. The rest had stayed back at camp, packing it up to move to the next job. The endless sand swirled around them and Cadash could just see the top of another dwarven statue peering over the next dune. 

“Peek-a-boo,” she whispered to Iron Bull. He rolled his eye at her and shoved her playfully. “One eye and one arm. Together we’re a real _pair_.” Cadash grinned at him.

“Your puns are _disarming_.” Bull shot back.

“ _HA_!” She snorted. “I get it.”

The cave’s entrance was eerily similar to all of the tombs Cadash encountered during the Inquisition’s explorations. She could tell the Iron Bull felt it too because he tensed beside her and motioned the company to pause. The entrance was buffed by the constant wind and sand scraping against it. Most of the intricate dwarven designs were completely worn away with only the telltale blue lines curving around to show any decorations. 

“Here,” Bull said, pointing at a brazier. “Veilfire. I have a feeling we’re gonna need it.” He spat into the sand in disgust. “I hate tombs. And caves. And weird dwarven ruins.” 

Dalish lit the fire and took a torch half buried in the sand nearby. “I’m guessing a scholar left this. Seems like he was in a hurry.”

Iron Bull growled. “A hurry to get _out_. Quillbacks don’t like caves so why would somebody run out of a cave to avoid something that doesn’t go in them?”

Cadash knew where this was going. Something, either a trap or creatures inside, had driven the scholars and researchers out. It scared them enough to go straight to the Chargers for help instead of starting with the army. 

“This is going to be bad,” she said.

********************************

They picked their way across the main chamber of the cave, careful not to disturb anything and checking constantly for traps. Cadash almost stepped directly on a trip wire but caught herself just in time. Iron Bull, on the other hand, was having some difficulty sneaking. He’d already smacked his horns on two pillars; once, she guessed, on accident, and one more to see if he could do it again. 

“A probable demon filled cave and I can’t have some of my own fun?” He had asked her when she shot him a look. 

“Could you be any more obvious? We’re _sneaking_ so the _demons_ can’t find us, ” she whispered harshly to him. He shrugged and offered an unapologetic grin.

The inside of the cave was dark but less dry than the outside world. The stone walls cooled the air to almost cold, relieving them. The only light they had came from the torch Dalish carried above her head. They didn’t want to chance lighting any of the other braziers lining the walls in case one of them triggered a demon attack or trap. 

It seemed like they had traveled for miles underground with out a peep of unusual activity when they came across the body. It was perfectly preserved away from the insects and heat of the sun, a petrified look on its face behind huge round glasses that made its eyes look twice as big. “A scholar I’d assume,” said Iron Bull. The corpse looked like it had once been a man; its long beard was crusted with blood from its mouth and it had a large hole in its chest.

“What happened to his heart?” Said Rocky, eyeing the body tentatively. 

“Shit. This looks like blood magic. Again.” Iron Bull beat his fist against the cool stone. The noise traveled around the room and echoed ominously. “Fuck.”

The ground had begun to shake. Two arcane horrors pulled themselves out of the stone floor like a twisted birth scene. They roared at the group and lit up the chamber with deadly magic. Cadash lost her blade attachment to the dragon so she was fighting with a single dagger, and it felt like she was only fighting with half of herself. Dalish threw spirit bombs at them while Rocky loaded up a few fire grenades. The Iron Bull and Krem began smashing at the Horrors, trying to fell one to make the other easier to defeat. Out of the corner of her eye, Cadash saw eyes glint in the doorway that lead to the next chamber. She didn’t think twice: she launched herself toward it and gave chase. 

This entrance lead to a wide antechamber that hosted a grand staircase that descended into the largest chamber she had seen so far in the cave. There were no other exits. As soon as she entered, large fires sprang up in huge fire pits along the walls. In the middle of the room was a single coffin like structure made of the same stone the rest of the cave boasted. “So this is a tomb,” Cadash muttered to herself. Behind her, the stairs seemed to fold themselves up, leaving no way to escape or have help arrive. She could still hear her friends battling the demons. It seemed like reinforcements had arrived for the Horrors. 

“So,” said a voice that sounded like someone running their tongue over a knife. “You came to steal from me too! Well, I don’t take kindly to thieves!” A ragged, wide eyed man crept out from behind the coffin. His face was covered with hair and dirt and a filthy tunic hung from his skeletal frame. 

“Excuse me,” said Cadash as bravely as she could. “What happened to you?”

“I _found_ it!” The man shouted, wringing his grimy hands together. Cadash saw that most of his finger tips seemed to have been gnawed off by something. He appeared to not notice if it was painful. “IT IS MINE.” He pulled out a tiny chunk of something red and glowing. 

“Red lyrium?” She asked, astonished. “So you found a piece of red lyrium and decided to try it did you? Why are people in Thedas so completely _foolish_.” She drew out her dagger.

“No one in all Tevinter has the power I do!” Cried the man as he clutched the shard to his chest as if it were an infant. He used it like a knife and slashed at his palm. Where his blood fell, corpses pulled themselves through the stone floor. “And when my friends are done, I shall eat your heart and grow more powerful still!” He cackled with shrill lunacy.

Cadash lunged at the neared corpse, stabbing it in the chest. It faltered but continued moving towards her with its sword slashing the air. _Fire_ , she said to herself. _I need fire_. She grabbed a hold of the edge of the closest large metal fire pit. The heat burned her hand badly and she shrieked in pain, but she managed to overturn the contents on to the hoard of undead creeping to her. The corpses sizzled and burned and ceased to move. 

“My friends!” The blood mage sobbed into his hands. “Fine! I will do this myself.” His earlier work left a smear of red on his face. He cast out his hands and brought them in front of him with a look of determination. Fire appeared before him and flung itself at Cadash. She leapt aside, landing in a roll, and popped back up. He was completely protected by fire except a small portion to his right that left a square foot of opening. Cadash grabbed her dagger by the point of the blade and flung it at the mage. She never missed and this time was no exception. The blade buried itself in the side of the man’s skull with a sickening crunch. He gurgled and fell to the floor, his lyrium shard rolling away from him and into the fire she upturned earlier. It burst apart with a hiss and stopped glowing. 

Cadash let herself sink to the floor and began bandaging her burned hand. Hopefully Stitches could heal this or she would literally be out of hands.

Iron Bull leapt from the stairless entrance into the large chamber and rushed over to her.

“Are you alright, Kadan?” He asked, his eye looking her over to determine injuries. Dalish and Rocky followed behind and checked over the body of the dead blood mage. 

“Never better.” She grimaced as he helped her to her feet. The burn was throbbing terribly. “Blood mage.” Cadash gestured to the dead man. “Apparently he found some red lyrium and went beserk. He told me no one was allowed to steal his treasure, which, of course, was the shard. He killed that researcher and ate his heart. Something about ‘getting more powerful’ or whatever.” 

Krem kicked the man over and examined him. “Yeah, definitely Tevinter, though he wasn’t in contact long enough for the lyrium to turn him into a rock person.” Cadash wondered where people were finding it and when it would stop. 

Iron Bull echoed her thoughts. “Where is this shit coming from? I thought we destroyed all the mines and Cullen’s retired Templar party is cleaning up the rest.”

“Too much, and it grows too fast,” grunted Rocky, taking a good look at the chamber around them. “Can’t kill every fly.”

Cadash wished she could.

****************

When they made their way back to camp, the skin on Cadash’s palm began sloughing off and the burn was oozing dangerously. The night came on quickly in the desert. “Cold,” she whispered to Iron Bull as the sun started to set. She was shivering and fatigue encompassed her. 

Bull had to carry her another mile to the Keep. Stitches had everything to heal a minor burn, but you could see muscle and deep tissues in Cadash’s palm. “I can’t fix that and she’s going into shock,” said Stitches, shaking his head. So they took all of their gear, loaded it onto the mules and Horse, and started toward the Keep.

“Sorry,” Cadash said tiredly, her hand wrapped in clean linen to keep out the sand. She rested her head on Bull’s chest, his warmth the only thing keeping her from shivering violently. 

“Don’t be,” growled The Iron Bull. He had her cradled like a baby and she never felt safer. “You did good against those ghouls. You probably would’ve died without that quick thinking. I’m proud of you. And hey, today we learned that dwarf skin isn’t as fireproof as people say. It was a great educational trip.” She knew he was talking to prevent her from falling asleep. Because, for some reason she couldn’t place, falling asleep was bad. But sleep seemed so sweet and it beckoned her… 

When she awoke, it was to Iron Bull and Krem having a heated whispered argument. She was in a soft, small bed in a comfortable looking bedroom. A merry fire crackled in the hearth that bathed the room in a warm glow. A handful of stars peeked in through the slit window. It was probably a spare bedroom at the Keep. Her hand was heavily bandaged and a strong scent of elfroot poultice rose from it. 

“How dare they keep this from us?” Iron Bull hissed. She could hear him pacing angrily up and down the corridor outside. 

“It isn’t _my_ fault,” Krem said huffily. “All I knew was that there _might_ be demons, which you would have known this morning if you weren’t previously occupied! I thought we were going to be battling Quillbacks too.” 

“Well, obviously,” said The Iron Bull in a dangerously low voice. “There weren’t any Quillbacks and some asshole owes me an explanation.” Cadash heard him storm off and Krem sigh. Light footsteps going away from her door told her that he also left. 

Dwarves are notoriously loud, but Cadash perfected her sneaking skills working for the Cadash crime family and the Carta. She actually had lessons in the art of stealth and quiet smuggling. She remembered a lesson her father taught her when she tried to steal a cookie from the kitchen. “Only those who can sneak past unnoticed may have any rewards,” he had said with a smile, and rapped her knuckles with a letter in his hand. That was one of the only fond memories she had of her childhood. Soon her family fell into ruin and debtors came to call. After their deaths Cadash joined the Carta, and then fell into the Inquisition and into Iron Bull. 

The sly dwarf slunk down the hall, her leather boots making no noise against the flagstone floors. She made it to what looked like the kitchen. Leftover food was laid out on a long table for the servants to eat. She stole a chicken leg and scarfed it down before continuing to find where Iron Bull had went. 

She didn’t have to search long. Loud shouting could be heard from what seemed like the top of the walls. Only one person could yell that loud. She quickly vaulted the stairs and made it to the outside of the Keep. 

“HOW DARE YOU LIE!” roared The Iron Bull, his face a throbbing shade of cherry. “We had no idea what we were up against! _She could’ve died_!” He was shaking his fist at who she assumed was the commander here at Griffin Wing. She wondered idly if it was still Commander Rylen. 

“We needed help and were under the impression that you would only offer it under the circumstances that the job was demon-free. How were we supposed to know the Inquisitor- I mean Messere Cadash- was to _accompany_ you?” The way the Commander said “accompany” gave the listening dwarf the impression that he disproved of Iron Bull and her relationship and she immediately disliked him. This was most definitely not Commander Rylen.

Cadash stepped out of the shadows before Iron Bull could clobber the man in rage. ”Excuse me,” she asked sweetly. “But please explain this situation to me. We were under the impression that we would be battling Quillbacks. We only brought a team large enough to battle Quillbacks. The rest of the Bull’s Chargers stayed behind to pack up camp while five of us walked unknowingly into a blood mage’s trap. If you had been open with us we would’ve brought more backup and probably have been safer. Perhaps with less injuries,” she said pointedly, waving her arm. “I only have one of these now, you know.” 

“Of… of course!” the Commander spluttered at her speech. “Next time we will be honest!” The frightened man turned quickly on his heel and practically ran down the wall and into the night. 

Iron Bull watched his retreat. “Kadan, I’m pretty sure you made that poor commander piss his trousers.” 

“I tried my best,” she smirked at him. Above them, the desert sky was filled with pinpricks of light: stars smiling down upon them. The wind was at a rare standstill and the Keep was free from the torment of whipping sand. 

Bull put his arm around her and firmly pinched her ass. “That’s for scaring me like that!”

“Ouch!” She protested. “I’ve had much worse injuries than this! What are you so upset for?”

“All the others… you take an elfroot potion, you get better. You smack some healing mist on yourself and move on. Kadan, you weren’t healing. The healing mages here say the fire was cursed through blood magic. They had to do some sort of spell to stop the burning. It was awful. Watching you slowly burn to death… Katoh, stop, I can’t think of it any longer.” He leaned his elbows on the railing and looked up at the stars. “I cannot lose you. It was like seeing the Mark eat you slowly again. You were in so much pain. And I could do _nothing_.” He sighed deeply. 

“Bull,” Cadash wished she had a hand to brush his arm with but she settled on leaning against it. “I will never leave you. Where you go, I go. Please don’t use this as an excuse to push me away. I will not go back to Skyhold or anywhere else without you.” She breathed in his familiar scent and the feel of his skin against her cheek. 

“I cannot offer you safety,” breathed Iron Bull into the night, “But I promise to take as good of care of you as I can, and to always protect your heart.” 

“Aww that almost sounded like wedding vows!” Cadash laughed and elbowed him in the ribs.

“Don’t get too worked up,” smiled Bull down at her. 

Suddenly a raven flew up to them. It had beady black eyes and feathers like pure black silk. A letter was tied to its leg and it cawed importantly at them. Cadash quickly untied the note and the great bird took flight again toward the rookery in the Keep. There was only one line on it, a scribbled note written in Leliana’s perfect handwriting. 

_Come back, you are needed_.


	5. Skyhold and Secrets

Chapter 5

Although the Bull’s Chargers were quick, it still took a week to make it to Skyhold trudging across Orlais. They caught a few rides with various caravans: people finally moving back after the civil war and the Red Templar battles. Many of the villages they passed were still in ruins, skeletal buildings rose out of the ashy earth and the only inhabitants were a few crows. The great black birds cawed angrily and took flight when the rattling carts passed by their perches. 

Cadash’s hand was mostly healed as well, thanks to the mages at the Keep and to Stitches’ poultices. New skin shined pink and baby soft underneath the simple linen bandage Iron Bull forced her to wear. She rolled her eyes. Most of the time Bull never left his own bandages on and picked incessantly at his scabs trying to make scars.

Travelling also gave Cadash time to think. She worried that the summons meant Solas had returned with an army to destroy the Veil. Her mind wandered to when she last saw the elven mage. They were betrayed by Viddasala with the Dragon’s Breath, she just learned Iron Bull was commissioned to betray her, and that Solas was Fen’Harel. 

Fen’Harel, The Dread Wolf, was supposed to be part of elven religion. Following tradition, The Dread Wolf tricked the gods into being trapped in the Fade forever. The true story involved the murder of Mythal, whose spirit became the Witch of the Wilds or Flemeth, a corrupted version of her previous life. Solas, enraged that the other Evanuris would kill one of their own, created the Veil and locked the ancient mages in the Fade. In doing so he cut off the elves and all other civilizations from their true culture and magic. But now he regrets what he did and wants to destroy the Veil, bringing the Fade and the world of the living together, possibly destroying everyone in the process. She had begged with him to stop, that everything could be worked out, and that all peoples deserved to live because they were innately good. She remembered Solas’ sad smile as he removed her arm where the Mark was killing her, and told her he hoped she was right and he was wrong. Then he disappeared into an eluvian and she hadn’t seen him since.

Cadash looked over at Iron Bull taking a rather bumpy nap atop the hay in the cart they were riding in. He was given orders to spy on her and then betray her to the Dragon’s Breath, but he didn’t. He went Tal-Vashoth and stayed by her and fought with her. When she asked him why he decided to be with her he told her, “You told me to keep the Chargers and that made me decide for myself who I wanted to be.”

“Are you thinking about that asshole Solas?” Iron Bull opened a grey eye to look into her green ones. 

“Yes and no,” she said, biting her lip. “I’m worried that we don’t have the resources ready to fight him now. Do you think I made a mistake when I disbanded the Inquisition?” 

“No, I don’t think so,” said Bull thoughtfully, scratching at his horns. “I could already smell the taint of corruption sneaking into it. It’s good you stopped it before it could go too much further. Cassandra is doing a good job as Divine, making sure that the Inquisition is well and truly dead in the eyes of the public. And you’re doing a good job as her advisor. When the time comes, the Inquisition will return to kick Solas in the balls, but until then, you and the others are doing well.”

“Thank you,” Cadash said. “Sometimes I need that reassurance that I’m not messing everything up.”

“Anytime, Kadan.” 

Suddenly Cadash’s bag lit up blue. “Hello? Hello! Why is it so dark?” Dorian Pavus’ annoyed voice came up through the canvas. She dug around hastily in it and pulled out a brightly lit crystal the size of her palm. 

“Dorian? Sorry, I had it in my bag,” she brushed her hair out of her eyes. “What’s going on? Is everything alright?”

“Yes, yes, it’s fine here in the land of blood magic and intrigue. I know I said I hated it but part of me is enjoying this mess. Is that _wheels turning_ in the background? Where are you?” 

“Hey, Dorian,” said Bull, putting his hands behind his head and leaning back into the hay. “Still fighting dirty Vints?”

“Is that… IS THAT IRON BULL?” Dorian quickly went into a string of Tevene. “Did I… interrupt something? Are you two going at it in a mill?”

Cadash felt her face flush scarlet. All of the Chargers were looking at her and a few of the traveling Orlesians seemed a little too interested in the conversation. “Dorian,” she hissed. “What did you want?”

“Oh, right. Apparently Leliana is very interested in what’s going on at the Magisterium. One of her spies was almost discovered yesterday dressed as an elven slave. Fortunately I was able to rescue her before it got too far. Please inform the Nightingale that some of her birds need better training.” Dorian coughed delicately. 

“Of course. Thank you for helping her. You probably saved her life,” said Cadash. She wondered what was so important that one of Leliana’s trained would risk their cover. “I’m on my way to Skyhold now. I was summoned.”

“Well that sounds ominous. You don’t suppose it’s our old friend Fen’Harel, do you?”

“Solas?” Cadash mused. “The note seemed urgent but I’ve heard nothing from any of our other friends. I’ll let you know when we arrive.” 

“Excellent. Oh, and Iron Bull, Cadash tells me that you’ve been introduced to my good friends soap and water. I am so very proud of you.” And on that note the message crystal went dark and Dorian was gone. 

“Miss that guy,” said Iron Bull, shaking his head.

 

***********************

The Chargers hit the tavern as soon as they arrived at Skyhold. Cadash said her thanks and wandered the grounds, getting reacquainted with her home. _Leliana can wait an hour to tell me what’s going on_ , she thought rather petulantly. The Chantry garden was blossoming in the late summer sun and the towers were as busy as ever. Although it was technically a Chantry stronghold, the fortress kept most of its old personality. The tavern still boomed and shops gathered in the southeast courtyard were as lively as ever. A small village was even beginning to grow outside the walls and some of the fields boasted beautiful crops. Altogether, it was shaping up into a good place to call home. 

Cadash missed her old friends, though. In the aftermath of Solas’ revelation, many scattered to the wind. At first Cullen ignored her letters like he ignored his family’s until she sent a rather mean raven to peck him until he wrote back. Josephine replied promptly and gave her gorgeous notes on the Antivan scenery, which was wonderful, but she missed Josephine’s planning and advice. Leliana was still here, but the spymaster scared Cadash a little. She didn’t think Leliana’s heart was open enough to let in another close companion. Cassandra was a rock, but a very busy one. Cadash hardly ever had time for a nice chat or advice about anything other than Chantry business. Varric’s letters were lengthy, but per usual, only a portion was ever true. She always wondered how her closest friend was truly doing. Dorian she could talk to any time, which kept her sane. Thankfully she had never been particularly close to Vivienne, but kept a cool relationship of mutual respect. Even so, Cadash would give a finger off her only hand to speak to her again about old times. She was in good contact with Sera, mainly due to the Red Jennies and conversations with Dagna. Cadash was happy to see Sera in a stable, happy relationship. Blackwall left for the Grey Wardens with a gruff goodbye and a stiff pat on the back until Cadash forced him to give her a proper hug. He seemed very uncomfortable with it but pleased nonetheless. 

Cadash wandered along until she reached the barn that was once Blackwall’s living quarters. His modest workstation was now a proper stable. Rows of saddles and tack lined the walls, and three new stalls had been added since he left. However, the old hayloft he used to sleep in was still a hayloft, and she loved going up there to think and listen to the people of Skyhold unnoticed. She laid a burlap sack over the hay and peered through the large barn windows into the sky. 

It was a truly beautiful day. The warm summer breezes fluttered her hair about her face and the sky was a crystalline cloudless blue. Children played beyond Skyhold’s walls by the village, their shouts mixing with the sound of boots and merchants in the courtyard. 

These were the only times Cadash let herself think of Solas. He had been one of her closest friends. Him, Varric, and Iron Bull made up her favorite exploration parties and occupied her fondest memories. Of course he could be an insufferable know-it-all and idealistic to the point of anarchy, but he had good advice and a kind heart. He had saved her from the Mark after all. She missed her friend’s banter and learning new things travelling the world. She remembered playing chess with him and losing terribly, but learning quite a lot. Even Iron Bull respected him in the end; although Bull probably saw that Solas was hiding something all along. Perhaps she was being foolish. Whatever Solas had been was a farce, and the real him was a regretful god of destruction. 

“I thought I’d find you here,” a gentle, low voice said. Cadash sat up and shook some of the hay out of her hair. Iron Bull’s head popped up from the floor as he climbed up the rest of the ladder. She put out another sack for him to sit on but he waved it away. He was probably right, it was way too small for him. “Do you remember that one time we came here and did it on Blackwall’s sheets just to see if we could get away with it? The stars were out and it was completely dark in the courtyard. His little fire downstairs and the torches on the ramparts were the only light. Eventually he came back from wherever, probably the tavern by the smell of him, and we had to hide inside a haystack until he started snoring. I picked out hay from my ass crack for a week.” Bull laughed at the memory.

Cadash laughed too. “That was so foolish of us! But worth it.” She cuddled up close to Bull so he could put his arm around her. “Hey, one good thing about not having an arm is that it won’t fall asleep underneath me when we try to spoon.” 

“True,” said Bull, cracking a smile. “What are you thinking about up here?”  
“The fate of the world. Old friends. Solas. Our next move.” Cadash sighed. “I’m so tired of saving Thedas sometimes.”

“If Thedas could save itself we’d be out of a job,” said the Iron Bull. He stroked her hair gently and picked out the remaining bits of hay. “Why is there always shit stuck in your hair when I want to be cute and stroke it like a proper lover?” 

“You’d better be glad it isn’t shit stuck in my hair this time,” she teased him.

“I will admit,” he said thoughtfully. “That one time you had dragon’s blood all soaked in it was pretty hot.”

“ _Ew_ that’s disgusting! My scalp still burns from that.” 

“Pretty hot though.” 

The sat in silence for a good half hour, soaking up each other’s presence and the simple pleasure of being alone together. 

**********************

Soon one of Leliana’s spies found them. _Damn_ , thought Cadash. _There goes my best hiding spot in Skyhold!_ He led them to the rookery when Leliana was briefing another agent. 

“How was your trip?” She asked, not looking up from a letter she had just picked up. She waved away the agent impatiently.

“Excellent. Thank you for the advance warning about the _demons_ though.” Cadash said rather coldly. “I got burned by cursed fire. Also, Dorian wants you to know that one of your spies was careless in Tevinter. He had to step in to save her.”

“Yes, but you survived and I knew you would anyways. And if one of my spies is caught then they should know better,” Leliana waved her hand noncommittally. “I have news of… an old friend. That’s why I summoned you.” She moved to a table where heavy books held open a large map. Little bird statues dotted it from corner to corner: the locations of the Nightingale’s agents. Cadash knew there were probably even more that were in such secret locations that Leliana didn’t want them implicated on a map, even in her office. “Here,” Leliana pointed toward northern Ferelden. “Are you familiar with The Calling?” 

“That’s what Grey Wardens hear when they’re called to die, correct?” answered Cadash.

“Yes and no. The Calling refers to the darkspawn whispers a Warden hears when the Taint begins to take over. It is a death sentence because the Wardens are then sent to the Deep Roads to spend their last days fighting darkspawn and then die a valiant death. The only known person to have gotten rid of the Calling is Fiona, the mage leader who approached you in Redcliffe at the beginning of the Inquisition.” 

“Thank you for that little lesson but what does this have to do with your ‘old friend’?” Cadash frowned. 

“My friend is the Hero of Ferelden and she needs your help to escape the Calling.”


	6. Time to Get Some Help from Friends

Chapter 6

Before he met Hawke, Varric never really had a best friend. He’d had acquaintances, “work buddies” in the guild, spies who worked for him, and whatever Bianca was, but never someone he could truly rely on. After everything that happened in his life, Hawke was there when most of the bad shit went down and she always stood by his side. She was there when Bartrand went crazy over the red lyrium idol and got him out of more trouble with the Merchant’s Guild than he’d like to admit. Although he tried to pay her back by buying off half the mercenary groups in Kirkwall to keep her and her friends safe. Hawke was also an expensive friend. 

One of his favorite memories of her was when her uncle was pants deep in debt, per usual, and the Carta put her name on the hit list since they knew Gamlen couldn’t pay. She opened up the door before the three Carta goons could knock, invited them in for tea, and chatted with them pleasantly for a couple of hours. Her kindness and hospitality confused them so much that they left without mentioning a single thing about owed money and never came back to bother her again. That was just the kind of person she was. 

She tried her best at all times, made terrible puns, and was probably the best person he had ever met in his entire life. The only other person that came anywhere close to her was Cadash, but the green-eyed dwarf was a little more violent and sarcastic. Hawke wouldn’t hurt the ugliest nug in the world unless it threatened someone she loved, like a cuddly malbari. Cadash sometimes went out of her way to get in a fight, not unlike her Tiny. 

The aftermath of the Chantry explosion, mage rebellion, and Qunari uprising years ago was incredibly difficult for Hawke. Least of which because her lover caused one of them and directly influenced the others. Varric knew that Hawke blamed herself for Anders’ mistake. She told him she thought she should’ve done more to prevent Justice from taking such a hold over Anders, that she should’ve researched his “cure” more thoroughly. Varric wanted to laugh. Anders blows up the damn Chantry right in the middle of strained peace talks between the mages and Templars and Hawke blamed herself for not trying hard enough. She still loved him, though. She forgave him once she had shouted herself hoarse at his irresponsibility and they ran off together for a time, escaping the law. After a few months, however, Hawke had to come back to Kirkwall to run her estate. Varric didn’t mind; he missed her a lot and enjoyed working as Viscount with her when he left he Inquisition. Palling around with only Aveline the guard captain wasn’t the best idea for someone who enjoyed rather… illegal ventures. Plus she was still sore over her and Donnic’s role in _Swords and Shields_. 

Hawke began having nightmares about all of the terrible events she’d seen. _Not surprising, really_ , thought Varric. After watching her brother die, her mother die horrifically, seeing all the death and torment of rebellions and civil war, and wondering if her lover would one day be consumed by the spirit of vengeance, it was a miracle she was still functioning. Unfortunately, while she could keep them under control while awake, these fears came out to play every night in her sleep. 

After a week or so of her looking like she fell off a horse repeatedly, Varric finally asked her what was going on. To escape her nightmares, Hawke had taken to staying awake all night and falling asleep only sporadically during the day. It was a terrible system and she was failing fast. Varric tried to think what made him feel better when he was troubled. He thought back to what little of the childhood he liked to remember and thought about when Bartrand and he shared a bedroom. Dwarves didn’t dream but they could have troubled sleep. Bartrand would shake him awake if he began twitching, sometimes even with a comforting word or two. It was just about the only time the sodding bastard was ever helpful.

So Varric began offering to sleep over at Hawke’s estate in Hightown. Outsiders grew suspicious of the relationship but it was purely platonic. All they ever did together in bed was sleep, which was difficult to explain to Bianca at first when her spies told her what was going on. _I knew she has me followed_ , thought Varric. Varric guessed Bianca was just jealous that he’d had more consecutive sleepovers with Hawke than with her. Hawke would curl up next to him, her head on his shoulder, and they’d both drift off with a candle going in the corner. Neither of them could really fall asleep in the dark anymore. Demon fighting will do that to you. 

Sometime in the night the nightmares would begin and she would shake in fear, waking him up. He’d pat her on the back or stroke her hair until she calmed down and snored gently. And sometimes it was him that would wake suddenly, drenched in sweat, with a worried Hawke shaking him and reassuring him back to Thedas. The arrangement was beneficial to both parties and he’d grown used to it. If he was being honest, he had a hard time sleeping any other way and when she left to visit Anders, he’d stay at the Hanged Man so that he could at least know other people were around him. _Damn what anyone else thought!_

After his exciting outing with Cadash, Varric’s days grew long once again. He thoroughly ousted Lord Bolen’s accounts and all of his assets were seized for the betterment of Kirkwall. Bolen’s mine was destroyed mysteriously by a group of vigilantes and stricter punishments were enforced for lyrium related crimes. Now Varric counted down the days until his best friend’s return. In her most recent letter Hawke made it seem like that could be any day now. 

*****************  
It was late at night. The few lampposts in Hightown were burning low and Varric had a candle lit in Hawke’s room. He was too tired to go to the tavern after such a long day at the Keep and he definitely couldn’t sleep at the Keep. There was just too much bloodshed there for him to ever rest comfortably. He wrapped himself in his blanket and laid his head down on Hawke’s pillow, comforted by the familiar lingering smell of her hair.

He awoke to Hawke banging around in the closets and unpacking her things. “Hawke!” He said excitedly. “How was your trip? How’s Blondie doing?”

“Good, surprisingly,” she answered with a hug for her closest friend. She was travel-tired and weary but felt fulfilled after two months with Anders. He was doing well, Justice outbursts were few and far between, and they had begun talking of a future together after the upcoming war with Solas. Varric had filled her in completely about the state of the mage. “It was nice to get away but I miss my _bed_. All Anders does is camp outdoors and my back died a little each night.”

“Yeah,” sniggered Varric. “I’m sure it did.” He felt his hair part a little as she threw a perfectly aimed dagger right above his head. 

“Varric you dog!” She laughed. Hawke gave up unpacking her large rucksack and wrapped herself up in a blanket, like a cocoon. Although they frequently shared a bed, they never shared a blanket. Mainly for two reasons: sharing a blanket was far too intimate for their liking, and Hawke put off way too much heat for anyone to be comfortable with. She curled up into a ball next to Varric and he laid still until her breathing became slow and regular. Then he drifted off to sleep as well. The candle he’d lit earlier flickered brightly as though it too was happy to see Hawke’s return. 

*******   
The next few days were business as usual in Kirkwall. Varric proposed another sewer project and it was shot down mercilessly in the council. “Pipes filled with… _things_ flowing underneath our streets? No thank you!” snapped a particularly prim councilmember. 

Varric didn’t see how much more hygienic throwing chamber pots into the gutters was but was saved an opportunity to argue his point when none other than Cadash and Tiny walked into the private government meeting. 

“Hope we’re not intruding,” said The Iron Bull in a tone that made it clear he knew he was intruding. He liked using his looks to surprise people and this was a golden opportunity. The nobles crowded around the table quaked with fright and made trembling excuses to exit the room in a flurry of “no, messere” ‘s and “you have the floor, messere” ‘s. 

Iron Bull laughed. “I love that.”

“Bull, don’t be rude,” Cadash swatted his arm but she was smiling too. In fact, all of her seemed to be smiling. Varric saw that a large weight was lifted from her: her dark green eyes shined mischievously and her hair returned back to its shiny chocolate-red. “So I have a task from Leliana.”

“Is it Solas?” Asked Hawke, leaning across the table. “Varric has me mostly up to date but _sometimes_ you can’t always trust what he says.” She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Hey, I write what comes from the heart and what makes me money. Sometimes I have to ehh, _bend the truth_ a lil’ to get that sweet spot of ‘this is too fantastic to have happened’ and ‘this is much too boring to be true’,” he spread his arms to show the difference. 

Cadash rolled her eyes while Hawke stifled a giggle. Iron Bull was busy eating the leftover catering from the meeting. “So you are the famed Hawke, eh?” He asked between bites. “Damn, you really kicked the old Arishok’s ass. Nice work!”

“Thank you? It was never my intention to wage war against him. He was being quite reasonable until Isabella ran off with his fancy book.” Hawke rubbed her forehead. 

“It was a diplomatic disaster what with the viscount’s head rolling around without a body and Meredith making all the mages angry. Oh yeah, and in the middle of it your boyfriend blew up the Chantry. Typical Kirkwall day,” supplied Varric. Hawke glared at him. 

“Shit! Your lover blew up a Chantry? What a bunch of badasses! Now this town just needs some dragons and it might actually be interesting,” said the Iron Bull excitedly, rubbing his massive hands together. “Also, where is your nearest market? My favorite tying-up rope for sex is broken and Cadash can’t buy it because she picked the wrong kind last time. The rope burns were _awful_.”

Hawke and Varric looked at Cadash; she was turning a rather horrible shade of sunburn, they could almost feel the heat from her cheeks and ears. Varric snorted loudly.

Hawke, as diplomatic as ever, squeaked, “The Hightown market is just around the corner…”

***********************

“Could this help save my sister?” Hawke’s soft brown eyes bore into Cadash’s green ones and her bright red hair and plethora of freckles offset Cadash’s dark auburn hair and clear tanned complexion. 

Hawke was the opposite of Cadash in the looks department. She was tall, about a head and a half taller than Varric and Varric was already a couple of inches taller than Cadash. She had a wiry, muscular frame and long graceful fingers. Her skin was very pale except for the shock of brown freckles that covered every inch of skin. Her lips were a cherry red from constant chap, sunburn, and Hawke’s habit of chewing her lip. Long, bright orange-red hair spilled around her shoulders. She kept it half up as Varric did but in a messy knot rather than a ponytail. She had warm brown eyes that were hazel near the pupil and then became dark around the edges of the iris. Her facial features were small and her face square: she had a slender straight nose and a smooth chin that rose into straight cheeks and gentle cheekbones.

Cadash rarely thought about her looks compared to someone else besides Iron Bull, but Hawke was a gently beautiful woman. Cadash thought of her own brown skin and dark reddish-brown hair pulled into an intricate braid so it would stay out of her face. Her button nose was slightly squashed from numerous breaks and her face was round and dwarven. Like her facial shape, Cadash had a distinctly dwarven frame, although she was thinner than most dwarves. Her arms and legs were muscular, if shorter than human extremities, and her stout frame small and quick. She had full lips and green eyes. Cadash shrugged mentally. Hawke was pretty but Iron Bull seemed to like the way Cadash looked and that was good enough for her.

Cadash blushed at being lost in thought at something as silly as appearances. Thankfully Iron Bull answered for her. “Yes, your sister… Bethany, is it? If she is a Grey Warden we should be able to remove the Calling. Although Leliana was not clear if it would remove the darkspawn disease.”

“The taint,” corrected Cadash. “Leliana told us of a woman named Fiona who had it removed using some sort of artifact. We’ve actually met her before, during the very beginning of the Inquisition. She offered the help of her mages but we decided the Templars needed us more, and we needed them. Last we saw her she was in Redcliff but no one knows where she is now. The Hero of Ferelden is rumored to be tracking her according to Leliana’s birds. I think our best bet is to find her and then assist her in finding Fiona.”

“Anders may know something of her, actually,” said Hawke. “Both he and Justice knew the Warden directly and fought with her during the aftermath of the Blight against some warring factions of sentient darkspawn- the Architect and a broodmother.” 

“That sounds both fun and disgusting,” said Iron Bull. 

“We should meet up with him as well. He or Justice may know something,” Hawke looked around rather fiercely, daring them to tell her no. Cadash knew what it was like to be away from someone she loved and said nothing, although she knew Iron Bull wouldn’t like the idea of finding yet another person who was also a spirit. Thankfully he was intelligent and decided not to say anything. 

“As long as we never go into the Deep Roads again, I’m in,” said Varric.

“Yeah, I’d rather sit in Dragon shit for three days than ever go back there,” agreed the Iron Bull.


	7. And They're Off

Chapter 7

Within two days they were packed up and ready to leave. They met with Merrill, Hawke’s elven mage friend. Apparently Merrill came from the same clan as the Warden and heard rumors that they were once again nearby in the Free Marches. Merrill refused to go into detail about why she left her clan, something about “I should never have started with that eluvian…” Whatever had happened, Cadash didn’t really want to know anyway. Anything to do with eluvians made her wary. 

Merrill’s rumor placed the clan on the other side of the Vinmark Mountains, directly north from Kirkwall. It was almost two weeks since they spoke to Leliana and Cadash knew she needed a team she could lead and trust. She liked the Chargers, but she wasn’t really their leader and she didn’t want intrude on the Iron Bull’s command. She knew she wanted Varric, and that meant she’d get Hawke as well, which she was fine with. Hawke was a fine rogue warrior and used dual blades like her. Everyone else was too far away or too busy to help look for a legend that may or might not help a small minority of soldiers. Cadash was okay with that as well: she liked smaller exploration parties. Anders would also be a useful addition down the road, as they had no mage yet. Normally she would bring Solas along on trips like this. He was so knowledgeable about the world of the Fade and magic in general that she had relied heavily on him. _Obviously too heavily_ , she thought. 

The group didn’t strike out on foot either. Hawke’s… butler? Cadash really wasn’t sure what Bodahn was but he was able to secure a ride for them with a merchant caravan heading over the mountains and on to Starkhaven. 

“Well,” Bodahn amended when questioned further. “They said you could come with them if you acted as bodyguards against highwaymen.” 

**************

So once again Cadash found herself bumping along in the back of a wagon. This time she sat with Varric. Iron Bull preferred to walk beside the slow moving wooden contraption. Cadash envied him, but she just couldn’t keep the same pace without breaking twice as often. He’d offered to carry her, laughing, but she politely declined and shot him a rude gesture when the others weren’t looking. 

“Don’t tempt me, Kadan! You know it’s been days since we last rolled!” Bull shouted loud enough for the merchants to hear. Cadash went red but cracked a smile. 

Cadash watched Hawke offer up her seat to Varric so that he wouldn’t have to walk. Although Cadash met her during the inquisition, she really didn’t know the Champion of Kirkwall very well. Varric trusted her completely and that was enough for Cadash to know to respect her. Cadash noticed how close Varric and Hawke were. They were like brother and sister, or how a brother and sister should be at least. She couldn’t really relate: she had no siblings that she knew of and all her family was dead. In her past life, the one she lived before the Inquisition, she was a nobody smuggler and spy working in the Carta. Family ties meant little because you could always make money off someone. Cadash learned to keep attachments confined and affairs short lived. Iron Bull was the only person she’d ever really had a true relationship with. 

The caravan traveled along the bumpy road at a glacial speed but even then the mountains seemed to get closer and closer very quickly until they were right at the base of the mountain pass. They helped the merchants chose a safe location in the small forest surrounding the area and set up camp. Soon there were a few tents propped up and a fire going in the middle. At first Cadash was worried that bandits might see the fire and attack, but she was assured that whatever happened, they could handle it. Besides, Hawke and Varric dealt with the Qunari uprising and pretty much everyone helped close the Breaches. A few highwaymen were no match for them. 

Varric snagged a few rabbits with Bianca and everyone enjoyed a hot filling meal. “So Tiny,” asked Varric. “How’s the retired life treating you?”

“I got to kill a high dragon a few weeks ago so I’d say it was pretty much the same as before. Except less demons and weird shit, which is better.” Bull answered through bites of his second rabbit. 

“How’s ‘No Pants Fridays’ going?” 

“Much better now that my lover is travelling with me,” Iron Bull said, grinning. “I might upgrade it to ‘Naked Every Day’.”

“Don’t push your luck!” Cadash laughed and poked him in the ribs. 

The rest of the meal was filled with laughter and chatting, memories of old times, and a sense of belonging that Cadash greatly enjoyed. These were her people, her _friends_ , and she loved them very much. Too soon, she felt the fire die down low and everyone retired to their tents. At first she thought it was odd that Hawke and Varric shared a tent, but then she remembered the nightmares Iron Bull had and figured that Varric helped Hawke through hers. Dagna always said that not being able to dream was a curse, but Cadash thought that in these cases it was a blessing. 

Cadash and Iron Bull made their way to the largest tent in the party. It wasn’t meant to be ostentatious: Iron Bull was just too large for human sized tents. Unfortunately that meant the tent was huge for her as she came up to Bull’s waist. 

“I like her,” said Iron Bull, cutting through the silence. “Hawke.”

“Me too. She’s like the big sister I never had. She takes the weight of the world on her shoulders and doesn’t bow or act out. She’s like a sweet old lady in the body of someone who can pin a fly to a wall by the wings with a dagger. Have you seen her blade skills?” Cadash was feeling rather envious of Hawke suddenly. Hawke seemed like she thought everything through carefully, and kept rash decisions and outbursts to a minimum. Cadash thought about all the snarky comments she made and the time she held a ball for the Duchess’ remains she left in a box. Probably not her best diplomatic work. 

“Feeling jealous?” Iron Bull opened the tent for her. “I can think of three reasons off the top of my head that you’re better than her.” 

“I’m not jeal…”

“ONE,” Bull said loudly, cutting her off. “You saved the fucking world. She just tried to smooth over Kirkwall. Two…” He cupped her face and drew her closer to him. “You have me, the best badass in the business by your side. Three..” Bull tugged at her tunic, pulling it over her head and exposing her breasts. “You have the nicest rack I’ve ever seen.” 

“Aww,” said Cadash, a sudden mischievous look in her eyes. “Tell me more.” She tugged his pants down and let his erection spring free. Only coming up to Bull’s waist had its advantages, one of which being she rarely had sore knees. She took him in her mouth and he inhaled sharply.

“Four,” he moaned, “You… you do this so well.”

“Mhmm.” Cadash stopped for a moment to push him down onto the sleeping pallet. Once before, Bull’s knees had buckled and she really couldn’t catch him. She ended up with a cracked rib and a shoulder brace after that mistake. 

“Five,” Bull breathed in harshly as she kissed up and down his shaft and lightly ran her fingers down his thighs. “Shit, Kadan, I’m supposed to be in charge…” 

“Shhhh,” Cadash put a finger to her lips and removed his pants all the way. She used her fingertips to trace up his calves, over his thighs until she landed at the apex of his legs. She kissed his tip and them plunged him all the way into the back of her throat. Bull let out a loud grunt. She stopped and said, “If you make any noise at all I’ll gag you and bite you. _Hard_.” 

Iron Bull bit his lip and nodded to show he understood. Cadash went back to her previous business. She went deep and slow, alternated with a shallow fast pace that focused on his tip. After the second cycle Bull let out a pleasured moan. 

“I told you to be silent, my love,” said Cadash with a wicked smile. She bit him right where his muscular thigh met his groin. A flash of pain quickly replaced by pleasure lit across his face. She needed this. She wanted to be in charge again; to have her control needed by someone else. Cadash loved her games with Bull, and tonight she was thankful that he let her be the game master. She took a soft strip of fabric and knotted it gently around his head and in his mouth. “Turn over,” She ordered. 

Iron Bull had a great ass: muscular and perfectly symmetrical. She ran her hand over it, stopping to fondle his balls and give his erection a few tugs. He moaned softly. “No, no,” Cadash chided, and bit his left buttock so hard that she could see the imprint of her teeth. She positioned herself to where she could rest her pelvis up against him and reach around his hips to jerk him off. 

Cadash could feel him about to explode in her hands when she stopped, spanked his ass, and flipped him over so she could slip onto him. His hands went to her breasts and stroked her nipples. She bounced up and down until he let out a shuddering, muffled gasp, and they came together. 

Bull undid the gag and panted. “If you ever bite me like that again I’ll tear off this gag and thrust into you until you beg me to come so you can have release from constant orgasm.” 

Cadash laughed breathlessly. “Shut up, I know you liked it.”

He opened his arms so she could curl up on his chest and she fell asleep almost immediately to the sound of his heartbeat returning to a normal rate.


	8. A Diplomatic Disaster

Chapter 8

Cadash woke with a start. People were yelling and it seemed like the tent was on fire. She coughed and flailed around for a moment to find her blades and new prosthetic. Iron Bull wasn’t in the tent but she heard him roar outside and the crunch of his axe on something. _Or someone_ , she thought, quickly grabbing her weapons. She pushed herself out of the tent just in time: it crumbled and was eaten by flames right as she moved her hand off the flap. 

Outside the tent it was chaos. The merchants’ carts were overturned and their wares lay strewn around the clearing. Most of the tents were on fire, the glare ruining Cadash’s night vision and making her see stars. Varric stood to the side, firing shot after shot into the melee. It appeared that elves had attacked the camp. Dalish, by the look of it. _Glad we found the clan_ , Cadash thought wryly. She crept up behind the closest elf who was about to fire an arrow at Varric. She knocked him smartly in the back of the head with the pommel of her dagger. _If we want them to help us, we need to kill as little as possible_. 

The rest of the group seemed to be thinking the same thing. Hawke dodged several sword slashes and landed a few blows with the side of her hands at the elf’s pressure points. He dropped like a fly and she moved on to another attacker threatening a terrified merchant. Iron Bull was in the middle of the battle, swinging his axe at any extremity that strayed too far from an elf’s body. Two or three had quit the battle to put a quick tourniquet on unfortunate arms. Cadash ran up and clubbed a male elf on the back of the head as he tied a thin piece of leather around his wrist to staunch the bleeding from a partially hacked off finger. His eyes rolled back and he sank to the ground. 

There were four elves left. They stood back to back as Varric, Cadash, Iron Bull, and Hawke approached them. A female archer fired shot after shot but Cadash managed to elude the arrows and knock a few from the air. Finally, Cadash got close enough to where she had to do hand-to-hand fighting. The elf snarled at her and whipped out a small dagger. She swiped madly at Cadash, who turned to the side and let the elf’s momentum tumble her forward and throw off her balance. The elf turned, angry at herself. “You _shem_ are all the same! You leech off the land and encroach upon the Dalish!” She stabbed at Cadash, who stepped back out of range of the elf. 

“I don’t want to hurt you!” Cadash shouted. “But I will incapacitate you if you don’t stand down!”

“Liar!” The elf shouted, swinging the dagger. Cadash gripped her own dagger carefully and parried each attack.

Nearby, Hawke smacked her male attacker in the neck with the side of her hand and he dropped to his knees. She looked over and saw Cadash carefully defending herself against the female elf. Hawke drew a throwing knife from her sleeve and hurled it. It landed directly in the elf’s hand, causing her to howl and drop the dagger. 

“I’m not sure what we did to provoke you, but we are not your enemy,” Hawke said placatingly. “We are not here to steal from you or hurt your people! We are resting here for the night so we can find the clan the Hero of Ferelden used to belong to.”

The male elf that Iron Bull took down spat blood from his mouth. He had his hands tied behind his back and Bull held his sword above him. “Then why was your merchant friend raiding our shrine to Andruil?” Blood bubbled from his busted lip.

“Well, shit,” said Varric. 

“Seconded,” Cadash ran a hand through her hair. She looked over at the terrified group of merchants that had been hiding under the remaining wagon. One was clutching at a tiny statuette. “What is that?” She stalked up to the merchant and snatched the artifact away from him. 

He trembled. Cadash couldn’t remember his name, like all the merchants, but she wanted to shout incredibly rude things at him. “Well…” he began fearfully, his eyes flicking between the enraged dwarf in front of him and the conglomeration of elves littering the clearing. “Real Dalish religious paraphernalia is a specific and _pricy_ acquisition. This would make a pretty penny in the Starkhaven black marke…” He wasn’t able to finish his sentence. Cadash clocked him in the head and he flopped over. 

“He isn’t dead,” she said disgustedly. “But he’ll have a nasty headache when he wakes up. Are any of you involved in this?” Cadash pointed at the unconscious man with her dagger. Whether they were being truthful or not, all the rest of the merchants shook their heads vigorously. “Good.”

“Here,” Hawke held up a cup of water to the one elf left conscious. “We’re sorry for our involvement in your loss. How can we help you?”

He took a sip of the water and spit it in her face. Watery blood dripped down Hawke’s neck and she wiped it from her eyes. “You can’t you filthy _shem_ and we don’t want your help.”

Varric roared angrily and slipped Bianca back into firing position. “Varric,” Hawke said sharply, holding up a hand. “We disrespected you. We apologize. Please realize that that man’s actions do not represent us in any way.” She motioned for Iron Bull to untie the elf.

“Um, I don’t think untying an extremely angry and violent person is our best choice here, Hawke,” Iron Bull said. 

“Please,” said Hawke. “If he attacks us again I’ll take responsibility for his actions, but I am not afraid of him.” Iron Bull bent down and used to elf’s own sword to cut his restrains. “Please return his weapon to him.” Bull looked credulous but handed over the sword wordlessly. 

“I’d say thanks but you know nothing of gratitude. We Dalish have watched you clod around for days. We worried when you ventured into this part of the woods but my second convinced me you were harmless. Then we found that _shem_ sneaking around Anduril’s sacred altar!”

“That wasn’t us!” Said Cadash furiously, stepping forward toward the elf. 

“Cadash, stop!” Hawke looked imploringly at Cadash. “Calm down. We can handle this respectfully.” 

“They just tried to kill us! All our supplies are burned!” Cadash waved her hand around at the evidence. “We should at least get some information about the Warden’s clan or whereabouts from these people.”

“Yes, but how is more violence going to solve this? We can solve this using understanding and peaceful measures.” Hawke offered the water again, and this time the elf swished the water around his mouth and then swallowed. 

“You are not as stupid as most _shem_ ,” the elf still looked suspiciously at them all but he accepted Hawke’s offered hand and stood up. 

Cadash locked eyes with Bull’s. They communicated silently: _if this guy tries anything funny, take him down_. 

“My name is Fenarel. And I do know the Warden you speak of, dwarf.” He spat the word at her and a few remaining droplets of blood sprayed out. “The only Dalish Warden we ever had. We were in the same clan before Marethari’s death and the clan split. The others are on the opposite side of the mountain.”

“I’m familiar with Marethari’s clan. When was the last time you saw her?” asked Hawke. She refilled the cup of water and he slurped at it thirstily. 

“I haven’t seen her since she left to fight the Blight fifteen years ago. Although I’ve heard rumors that she’s been spotted up north across the mountains.” He glared at Cadash. Around them, elves began to wake up, coughing. Hawke took the cup from Fenarel and began offering water to the confused elves. “Do not fight, brethren.” Fenarel told a combative elf. “She is a friend to the People. But watch the rest.”

“We can hear you,” said Varric, carefully watching to make sure no one else tried to spit at Hawke. 

“So,” began Cadash, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice. “You haven’t seen the Warden in fifteen years. Do you know if the other clan has?” She rubbed at her callouses to vent her impatience. 

“No.” 

“That’s it? ‘No’?” Iron Bull raised an eyebrow. 

Fenarel looked coldly at the Qunari. “No,” he repeated. 

“He’s definitely got balls,” admitted Bull. “I wouldn’t stand up to me if I was his size. Well… maybe I would.” He grinned sheepishly. 

“Please, Fenarel,” said Hawke softly. “The Warden might have information I need to save my sister. Her name is Bethany. She went on a mission with me into the dwarven Deep Roads and became infected. She had to become a Grey Warden in order to live. The Hero of Ferelden may have the information I need to spare her from the Calling. Please, all the rest of my family is dead. My father was killed to cover up his involvement in locking away Corypheus, my mother was killed by a blood mage who stitched her together to look like his dead lover, and Bethany’s twin brother was killed escaping Lothering during the Blight. I beg you, help me.” Hawke looked at Fenarel, desperation and love written into every worry line in her brow. Cadash wondered how many people were out there like Hawke: good, unselfish, caring people who would do anything to help anyone. She prayed that whatever entity created the world would make more of them. 

And for the first time since they met, Fenarel stopped scowling and his features softened. “Yes,” he said quietly. “The Warden met with the other clan. I can take you to them.”

*******************

Fenarel was true to his word to Hawke. The elves moved with high efficiency after an hour’s rest. They moved briskly through the woods, their leather clad feet making no noise across the rocky path. Hawke and Iron Bull were able to keep up with them easily. Varric and Cadash had a harder time. 

After the fifth fall, Cadash decided it was time for a break. They were incredibly close to the mountain pass and a small stream was nearby. She could hear it gurgling happily a little to the east of them. “Hey I’m going to grab some water,” she said firmly, and jabbed a thumb in its direction. She heard Varric sigh with relief beside her. 

The rest of the party stopped. Cadash felt the glares of the lithe elves but Iron Bull wore a smug smirk and said, “I’ll join you.” 

Varric splashed water on his face and it dripped down his chest, mingling with sweat and chest hair. “I hate the outdoors,” he said, shaking the mud and dirt off his boots. “And following violent elves through mountain passes. In fact, I’d rather lick the streets of Kirkwall, actually Lowtown, I would rather lick the streets of _Lowtown_ than be here following these elves.” 

“You couldn’t pay me to do that,” said Iron Bull, shaking his head. He took a big drink of water and cupped his hands to splash water at Cadash, who was rubbing her sore calves. 

“Hey!” she said, surprised by the cool water. “Actually, that felt good.” She stuck her arm elbow deep in the stream and rinsed off some dried sweat. “I have never really wanted to be human or elvish, but what I wouldn’t do for some longer legs.” 

“I told you you could ride on my shoulders,” supplied Iron Bull helpfully. 

“And have you try to knock me against branches deliberately? No, thank you,” Cadash said. 

Bull grinned. “I’d only do it a few times…”

Hawke walked out from the shade of the woods. “Fenarel says we need to move or we won’t make it before dark,” she said softly. She rested a hand gently on Varric’s shoulder, who patted it affectionately. 

They returned to the elves, who looked reproachfully at them. Cadash tried her best to trudge and breathe as loudly as possible. Several elves shot her glares when she snapped her third stick and Iron Bull snorted with laugher. At least antagonizing them made her feel a little bit better. 

As they got further up the mountain the air became cooler. The scent of pine and wooded exclusion swirled around them in the early autumn breezes. Cadash couldn’t imagine the life of an Orzammar dwarf, stuck indoors and underground their whole life. She took in the beautiful scenery: the mountains rose up around them and the late afternoon sun bathed the valley they came from in a warm orange glow. It was her favorite time of day. She lagged behind the group just so she could take it in for a moment. 

“It’s beautiful, just like you, Kadan,” the Iron Bull stepped beside her and put his hand on her waist. 

“This is what I want to save. Solas can’t destroy things like this. It isn’t right for him to make this choice for us. He cares so much about free will but doesn’t even realize he’s taking creation’s right to live away,” Cadash’s voice shook with anger. 

“I know,” Bull said, almost sadly. “He was once our friend.” Cadash shut her eyes and leaned into him. The Solas she knew would’ve loved the sunset and she didn’t want to tarnish that memory with who he was now.

***********************************

The rest of the day faded fast and they made it through the mountain pass just as the first stars started came out. Cadash was exhausted and Varric was basically sleepwalking; he kept bumping into Hawke and stepping on the back of Cadash’s shoes. Even Iron Bull was breathing more heavily than normal. The elves all looked fine. _Assholes_ , thought Cadash mutinously. 

Fenarel stopped the party and pointed at a few flickering orange lights down in the valley on the northern side of the mountains. “The other clan is down there. This is where I leave you.”

“What?” Cadash asked indignantly. “You told us you’d take us to the other clan. We could’ve found them ourselves!”

“We walked right through a group of my people. Without me they would’ve attacked you. I provided safety,” Fenarel said without emotion. “Besides, I am not welcome with the other clan. You would be safer without my presence.” 

“ _Ma serannas_ , Fenarel,” said Hawke. “ _Dareth shiral_.”

“You are a friend to the People, Lady Hawke. May your kindness never wane, and perhaps spread to your friends.” He fixed his eyes on Cadash. “May the Dread Wolf never hear your steps.”

Cadash snorted. Fenarel motioned to the other elves and they disappeared into the night. 

“I didn’t know you were learning elven,” remarked Varric.

“Merrill has been teaching me,” Hawke smiled. “It’s not going very well. I basically just told him ‘thank you’ and ‘safe travels’.”

“Still pretty good, Fenarel seemed to appreciate it.” Varric looked out over the valley. “How long do you think it’ll take us to get to their camp?”

“Another hour at least,” answered the Iron Bull. “But it’s a downhill walk so it won’t be near as hard. I’m glad we’re on our own again. Those elves made me feel a little nervous. They aren’t as badass as Sera, though.”

“No one is as badass as Sera,” said Cadash.


	9. In the Fade

Chapter 9

_The Iron Bull roared triumphantly as Cadash pierced both daggers through the dragon’s skull. She grinned and dark red blood splashed across her face and the dragon dropped to the ground. Rolling off, she popped back up, holding up her daggers in victory._ She’s so beautiful, _Iron Bull thought._

_Every thing about her was beautiful to him. She was stubborn and a natural leader, but she was kind, too. She never said no to anyone who needed help, and she was fiercely loyal to her friends. Sometimes that softness scared her so she tried to hide it under a layer of sarcasm and bravery._

_Cadash sheathed her daggers and sauntered over to him, her arms outstretched for a hug. “I love you,” she whispered, her hands on his face as he went in for a kiss._

_“This is_ wrong,” _Iron Bull realized. “Your hand...”_

_Suddenly the world around them swirled into a different scene. Dark clouds rolled above and the air became thick with a heavy mist._

_“And whose fault is that!” Cadash’s voice screamed through the mist. “You didn’t protect me! Solas was the only one who helped me and then he left! I was dying!”_

_The clouds began unloading their burden: dense drops of what looked like blood began falling from the sky and breaking through the fog. Cadash stood naked, covered in the red substance falling from the sky. Her whole arm flashed green with the Mark and as he watched, it began crawling up her neck and down her torso. “You said you’d never hurt me. You said we’d always be together,” She gurgled as she choked on the Mark and on the rain._

_“NO!” he screamed, running at her. But no matter how hard he ran he couldn’t get to her. He stared helplessly as she fell to her knees, screaming in pain. Soon all of her body was covered in glowing green cracks. She reached a hand out toward him and crumbled into ashes in the blood rain._

_Bull crumpled and began to sob. “I’m sorry! Kadan, please, I’m so sorry! Katoh, Katoh, I want this dream to end!”_

_The scene changed again. He was back at Skyhold in one of the wall towers overlooking the castle. An eluvian stood to the edge; the same eluvian Solas disappeared into a year ago. The sky was ripped open by an enormous, sickly green breach and demons poured out of it by the hundreds. The rest of the castle was destroyed, burning into ashes._

_“I must say,” said a familiar voice behind him. “This isn’t how I expected your dreams of me to look. I expected more… bravado, and possibly naked people.”_

_Bull turned and saw Solas striding toward him. His hands were clasped firmly behind his back and he walked with an air of authority._

__“You,” _Iron Bull growled. “What have you done? Where am I?”_

_“Where does anyone go to dream?” Solas asked simply. “We’re in the Fade.”_

_Iron Bull snorted disgustedly. “I do dream you shit. I know I was in the Fade. Where am I now? This is different than a dream. You’re actually here.”_

_“Very good. I’m glad that you figured that out quickly.” Solas smirked a half grin that didn’t really reach his eyes. “I need to you give a message to the Inquisitor.”_

_“What?”_

_Solas sighed. “Dwarves do not dream as they cannot enter the Fade. I figured you were my next best option.”_

_“Go on then, traitor,” Bull said with a glare. He felt very uncomfortable that Solas knew Cadash’s location. He didn’t want this bald asscrack anywhere near her._

_“I’m the traitor? Perhaps you should look in the mirror_ Tal-Vashoth,” _Solas said pointedly._

_“I have made my peace with it. And I know I made the right choice,” the Iron Bull said evenly._

_“Is that why you have nightmares of the Qun finding you and killing you? Or the Chargers coming back from the dead to haunt you?”_

_“Make your point, Solas. This place gives me the creeps and I need a stiff drink.”_

_“Tell the Inquisitor that this—“ Solas gestured at the ruined Skyhold and the pulsing tear in the sky. “Is what will happen if she resists me with force. I thought it only fair that I warn her of the consequences of opposing me.” He turned to leave back through the eluvian._

_“She misses you.” Iron Bull blurted suddenly. “She’s angry and hurt. You were her friend and you left her out like a pile of shit. She’s built a wall inside her that no one can break down because she trusted you and you shattered that trust. You broke her heart.”_

_For the first time in the entire conversation, Bull saw Solas’ shoulders sag as the weight of his words burdened him. Solas made a move as if to turn around, then appeared to think better of it and shook his head._

_“I will always respect her,” he said slowly. “And I regret hurting her. But I will not change my path, though I have tried.”_

_At that, Iron Bull roared and rushed at the eluvian. Solas disappeared through it just before Bull’s fist collided with the frame. Tiny cracks spread over the glassy surface and the dream world began to fall away like the pieces of the broken mirror._

*******************************

The Iron Bull woke with a start. He was breathing hard and coated in cold sweat, so much so that he felt it trickle between his shoulder blades and down his spine. He checked quickly to make sure it wasn’t blood rain and heaved a sigh of relief.

_Just a dream_ , he told himself. _But not all a dream._

Iron Bull felt Cadash twitch in her sleep, and envied her for not having any dreams. He laid back down on the pallet and pulled her close to him. She smelled like sage and lemongrass, her favorite perfume. She was warm and comfortable, and she snuggled closer to him sleepily. 

“I love you,” he whispered to her.

“s’love yous,” she mumbled before snoring gently. 

Iron Bull smiled. Everything was going to be fine as long as he had her.


	10. Another One Joins the Ranks

Chapter 10

In the morning, brightly chirping birds in the trees above the camp woke Cadash up from a deep sleep. Iron Bull had nightmares last night judging from the slightly wet pallet. He was still sound asleep so she decided to leave on her own.

They had arrived in the Dalish camp the night before very late. Hawke did most of the talking: she knew a few of the elves in the clan from her time spent with Merrill. The other elves appeared to dislike her the least out of the party, although they seemed to deeply dislike Merrill and seemed very relieved when Hawke told them she was still in Kirkwall. Their Keeper, a younger mage named Eron, offered a couple of tents for them to rest and a little food. “I have many questions but your weariness is evident and they can wait until the morning,” he had said. _Thank the Maker_ , Cadash thought, and immediately fell asleep in the tent she shared with Bull. 

But now was the time for explanations and furthering quests. Cadash pushed out of the tent and into the sunlight. The camp was alive with elves: some chatted by the caravans, a few were fixing a hole in the halla fencing, one was setting up his weapons shop for the day. They all looked regal, and happy. Children danced carefully around the cook fire, their hair shining in the sun. It was a beautiful sight and Cadash was glad she was able to see what a Dalish camp looked like without the threat of the Breaches.

Hawke, Keeper Eron, and Varric were already seated on logs by the Keeper’s tent and had finished breakfast. Cadash’s stomach grumbled noisily: she hadn’t eaten all day yesterday following Fenarel’s clan. Keeper Eron motioned her to come sit by him and the others, and called an elf over and asked politely for another breakfast plate. 

“Thank you,” said Cadash as graciously as she could. Her experience with elves taught her that they valued respect the most. She remembered when she encountered Abelas at the Temple of Mythal. Even though Iron Bull disapproved, she made sure to follow the temple’s rituals so she could honor the elven culture. It just seemed like the right thing to do. She took the wooden plank covered in berries the other elf handed her. She could feel Varric suppressing a laugh across from her and it took great amount of willpower for her to avoid his gaze. Dwarves were more “meat and potatoes” kind of people. 

“So,” began Keeper Eron. “You seek the Sabrae clan’s assistance in locating Mahariel, otherwise known as the Hero of Ferelden.”

“Um, yes,” said Cadash. “I’m glad Hawke and Varric filled you in. I apologize for my partner and I sleeping in so late.”

“You and your partner the Iron Bull are most welcome to rest. You both have heavy weights on your hearts,” Keeper Eron said. He was tall and thin like all elves and had sandy brown hair, dark blue eyes, and facial tattoos that were bold against his face and looked like a tree. 

“I have never really seen Dalish facial tattoos. Are they caste specific like dwarven ones?” Cadash asked curiously. 

“No, they are meant to honor our gods,” Keeper Eron smiled. “I am pleased you are interested in the People’s culture. Curiosity is an opening for sharing and spreading of new ideas.” He frowned slightly. “At least that is what I believe. Other clans dismiss _shemlen_ and dwarven peoples simply because they are not elves. I feel that is wrong.”

“Ah, so that’s why Fenarel left this clan,” Varric said, popping a blueberry into his mouth. 

“Indeed. Fenarel believed this clan was too lenient to city born elves and _shemlen_ who pass too close to our camp. He killed offensively instead of defensively. It caused a neighboring human village to turn on us. What was mild suspicion and tolerance became hatred and violence. I wanted to flee to avoid bloodshed but Fenarel wished to stay and fight. He and his followers split away from this clan and…” Keeper Eron looked away. “The villagers did not make it. I did what I could to guide their spirits onward to the Fade. It was the least I could do.” 

“ _Ir abelas_ ,” Hawke said gently. She gently patted his shoulder and then returned her hand to her lap. It was a natural and comforting gesture, and Keeper Eron smiled sadly. 

“ _Ma serannas_ , it is not often a human can speak our tongue. I am impressed.”

“I’m not fluent by any means, Merri-“ Hawke was suddenly cut off by Varric stomping on her foot. “I mean, my friend in the alienage of Kirkwall is teaching me.” 

If Keeper Eron noticed anything he was remarkably taciturn. Varric shot Cadash a wink that said, _Merrill is a sore subject_!

“You seem to be friends of the People,” Keeper Eron said thoughtfully. “And your quest is most certainly noble. I know of a person who can help you find Mahariel, though I must ask something of you in return.”  
Cadash sighed inwardly. There was always another quest that got in the way of the main objective. Everyone needed something done, someone found, or something returned. She wondered what it would be this time. Would they have to fix the halla pen? Find a loose wolf pup? Kill a bunch of cave spiders?

“Of course,” Hawke said smoothly. “We are happy to assist you.” Varric and Cadash glanced at each other. He rolled one eye slightly and Hawke, not even looking at him, jabbed him silently in the ribs with her elbow. He frowned. Hawke’s face was completely serene, with no sign of Varric’s chastisement.

“There is a band of humans, some sort of travellers, who are passing alarmingly near. Go convince them to avoid this area. I fear that Fenarel’s clan may try to attack them. I also fear that they will listen to no elf, only someone of their own kind or a race they trust. I do not wish to fuel future disputes by elves trying to persuade the humans to avoid other elves.”

Cadash thought for a moment. “So… you want us to casually hint that there are no attacking elves in this part of the mountains while persuading the humans that they shouldn’t linger here?”

“Yes! I am so glad you saw my other concern. I do not want any more humans thinking elves are volatile even if Fenarel’s clan is…well…rather hostile. I am sure you will think of something clever. You did lead the Inquisition, after all,” and with that said, Keeper Eron rose from his sitting position, excused himself, and walked over to a group of young elves politely waiting for him. 

“No caves… no bears… very little chance for _demons_ … This is shaping up to be a pretty fuckin’ great day!” Iron Bull stretched leisurely. “Maybe we can find a few rabbits and eat real food too.”

Varric stood and surveyed the party. He seemed to be deciding something. “Alright, I vote myself to talk to these humans.” At their protests he began pointing to each of them in turn. “Tiny,” he said, craning his neck to look up at the Iron Bull. “You are too scary. You’ll just run them off before we can talk to them. Plus relations with the Qunari are at a definite low. They might be from Kirkwall.” Bull shrugged. “And you,” Varric turned toward Cadash. “You’re good at persuasion but your lies aren’t delivered _just_ right. Too much thinly veiled sarcasm.”

“Isn’t that exactly how you sound—“ Cadash’s protests were cut off by a dismissing wave of Varric’s hand. 

“Lastly, Hawke, you’re good at rallying people and persuading them to do the noble thing but you are absolutely useless at lying. You’re way too nice.” Varric looked mock disappointingly at his best friend. Hawke rolled her eyes but offered nothing in her defense. 

“Ok,” said Cadash. “ _Obviously_ you’re the dwarf for the job but what exactly are you going to say? Also, your voice sounds like it’s constantly spinning a well told lie or that you’re doing some sort of conniving.”

“Me? Conive? Inquisitor I would _never_!”

********************

The blundering caravan of humans was easily spotted. Keeper Eron was right, they were about to walk right into Fenarel’s group. One of the humans had a map of some sort and couldn’t tell which end was up. Consequently, the group seemed very lost.

“Ok,” Varric whispered to them. “Cadash and I will stroll by, pretend we’re newlyweds off on a honeymoon adventure. We’ll ask them where they’re going, say we’re going the opposite way, and direct them in a safer way to their destination.”

Iron Bull pouted a little. “Why does she have to be married to you?”

Varric snorted. “Because we’re the only two here who match races. Also, if they saw her with you they’d think you were having your way with a child.”

“Hey I’m only a few inches shorter than you, Tethras!”

Varric ignored Cadash. “Anyway, here they come. Story time!”

Cadash and Varric crept up behind the human party silently. She threw his coat on over her left arm to hide that it was actually a leather blade attachment. _Wouldn’t want to scare them away too soon_ , she thought. 

“Hello fellow travelers!” The caravan of humans all jumped and turned around, terror on their faces. “My wife, Izzy, and I are just off on our honeymoon. Where are you fine folks headed?”

Cadash was pleasantly surprised. Varric sounded and acted just the part. She tried to put a big dopey grin on her face and look sappily at him. She soon decided she would need Iron Bull to hit her with a stick repeatedly for being so ditzy. 

“Well,” said the man holding the map. “We’re trying to get to Denerim.” The map caught in the breeze and pulled free, floating elegantly into Varric’s hand. Cadash had to admit that was pretty mystical. The caravan looked at Varric as if Andraste herself came down from the heavens. “Could you… could you show us where to go?” The man asked tentatively. 

“Of course,” Varric said smoothly. Cadash smelled a lie coming along. “Don’t you know that all dwarves have Stone-sense even topside?” The travellers all nodded as if this made perfect sense to them and she held back a laugh. Varric hated it when people referred to common sense as “Stone-sense” just because he was a dwarf. 

Varric turned the map over, trying to find north. He took out a bit of charcoal from his pockets and drew a compass on the map. “Alright. You want to go south. Right now you’re headed northeast. Keep the sun to your left in the morning and right in the afternoon. You’ll eventually get to Kirkwall, a great city if I might put in my own opinion, I hear the Viscount is a very nice, handsome—“ He stuttered a bit as Cadash stepped on his foot. “ _Ah_ , anyways, in Kirkwall you can hop a ferry to Ferelden. In fact, here’s a note to give to any ship you see in the harbor. They’ll take you for free.” He scribbled a quick missive on a piece of old parchment he pulled out of yet another pocket. “From there you just follow the roads.”

The man holding the map looked like he was about to cry with relief. “Thank you! Thank you so much!” Varric avoided an awkward hug gracefully.

“Oh, and don’t head to the southwest before getting out of the forest. We came across some magical activity, but since we’re dwarves the Stone saved us,” Varric added casually. Cadash kept smiling wanly. She figured these people weren’t versed enough in dwarven culture to know that no dwarven wife would be silent for this long. The travellers waved their goodbyes and continued, the right way, down the path.

“Izzy?” Cadash raised an eyebrow questioningly after they were out of earshot. 

“Your Inquisitorialness seemed a bit too long as a doting pet name,” Varric said.

“Sweet folks. Dumb as a nug but nice.”

*********************

Iron Bull, Cadash, Hawke, and Varric made it back to the Dalish camp before it was high noon. Even Keeper Eron was surprised, “You have returned already? Will the humans avoid this section of forest now?”

“Should be fine, we directed them back to where they wanted to go in the first place and helped them avoid Fenarel. Magic mumbo jumbo works every time!” Varric flashed a cunning smile. “I am fond of extravagant lies.”

Keeper Eron seemed like he didn’t really know what to say to that statement. “Well, excellent. The clan and I appreciate all that you have done for us.”

“Who is this helper you mentioned earlier?” Hawke replied kindly.

A voice rose from behind them. A tan elf with parallel facial tattoos and honey blonde hair stepped into their midst. “Hawke, looking beautiful as ever. I believe it is time to find our Grey Wardens, no?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm not posting quite as often y'all. It's HESI season for the nursing students and then in two weeks we have finals. But I just wrote the ending of this story! Don't worry, I won't give out any spoilers.


	11. The Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, sorry y'all. I usually try to post every few days but between finals, work, and summer school I just haven't found time to write anything more. I hope you enjoy this quick dialogue scene mainly to slow the story down and give me the chance to write more.

Chapter 11

“Zevran!” Hawke gave him an excited hug. 

Varric chuckled. “I figured we would find you eventually, Antiva.”

“You are much sharper than anyone gives credit for,” Zevran winked at him. “And Inquisitor, you and your exploits are famous throughout all Thedas. I expect you remember my, ah, services?” 

“Oh! The Crows!” Cadash grinned. “Yes, your services were fantastic. Thank you for all the help you gave the Inquisition.”

“A Crow, eh? So either the Crows are letting their members have vacation leave now or you’re high up enough in their ranks to go where you damn please.” Bull shook Zevran’s hand with an extremely interested look in his eye. “Old Ben-Hassrath, myself.” 

“Impressive and true! Ben-Hassrath are much feared even in Antiva City. Tal-Vashoth, now, no?” Zevran asked curiously. 

“Yeah, unfortunately not sacrificing your mercenary group for the good of the Qun is frowned upon.”

“Ahaha! So the stories are true! If it is any consolation, I believe you made the right choice, my friend. Both in the professional and personal route.” Zevran smirked at Cadash and Bull. “Now this is a story I must hear. Varric, indulge me later, yes?”

Zevran gave them time to pack up their belongings and Keeper Eron was kind enough to bestow two new tents upon them. “To help you find our lost sister,” he said solemnly. The clan also gave them extra supplies as it was late autumn and finding food would be more difficult as the weather grew colder. 

“Thank you,” Cadash said, looking at the clan as they left. She nodded to Keeper Eron, whom she had talked to about Solas, and who was on the Inquisition’s side. “Send us word if you hear anything.” 

After they were a few miles north of the camp, Zevran stopped to talk to them. “So I have already talked to Fiona. Her information was rather unhelpful, as she cannot recreate the artifact she used to rid her of the Calling. However, while I was with Lyna we came across a mage who prolonged his life and kept the Calling at bay. That was at Soldier’s Peak.”

“Isn’t that back in Ferelden? Blackwall mentioned it once,” asked Cadash, trying to remember her southern geography.

“Indeed,” Zevran sat down on a large boulder and took a sip of water from his pouch. “Lyna and I tried going there first. We found clues but no definitive proof of a cure, and the remaining darkspawn quickly dragged her away from her quest.”

Cadash could see how he was such a great Crow. The Crows prized themselves on being the best and Zevran had all the characteristics of being the very greatest. He had a calm confidence, obvious skill, and his charming looks probably didn’t hinder him from getting a job done. He was the opposite kind of assassin that Bull was. While Bull was as suave as he could be, Zevran had the right build for sneaky, stealthy jobs. Iron Bull knew that being sly was more likely to get him caught because he was already extra noticeable. 

“That’s where she met Anders,” supplied Hawke. “And… Justice.” Her face fell at the mention of Justice. _Apparently having to share your lover with a vengeance spirit was frustrating_ , Cadash thought. 

“Ah, yes. The spirit, no?” Zevran said. “I met him at our fun get-together in Kirkwall right before the rebellion. I am sorry, I heard what transpired.”

“You don’t often hear ‘Kirkwall’ and ‘fun’ in the same sentence,” Varric chuckled.

“Varric, you’re too hard on Kirkwall, I know you love it, Darktown and all,” Iron Bull laughed with him. It was true of course. Varric talked about Kirkwall like he hated it, but really he loved the place. Cadash thought it was like his place version of the real Bianca. No matter how many times it hurt him he would always go back. 

“Zevran, please continue,” Hawke motioned him to continue. 

“Ah, indeed. We went back to Soldier’s Peak and found that he had been speaking with a demon, or spirit, the difference escaped me at the time. He had many notes on how to find a certain altar and call down the spirit. But there was a catch that Lyna could not figure out; the spell calls for blood of a man merged with a spirit. Wynne died before we could ask her for help, as she shared her body with a spirit for some time.”

“Looks like we’ll need this Anders after all,” the Iron Bull gave Hawke a playful nudge. “Too bad this just included the shitty parts of our usual quests. Demons and blood magic.”

“Why do I feel like this is going to end badly?” Hawke frowned worriedly and shared glances with Varric, who looked the same. 

“At any rate, Lyna has all of the notes with her and I would rather rendezvous with her before finding this spirit. She has a strength I do not. Women usually do, yes?” Zevran smiled at her memory. 

Cadash wished she knew more about the 5th Blight and the Hero of Ferelden. All she knew was what she heard from others and the brief note she wrote to the inquisition. She knew the Warden was a good leader: the Warden was, after all, Warden-Commander for a time. Cadash tried to remember any bit of history she remembered. She was only a girl sixteen years ago when the Blight began. Stories fascinated her and she remembered hiding under the bars at taverns her father’s business brought him to. The guests would tell their stories and she’d listen while her father talked to the innkeepers in hushed tones and exchanged money. 

There were many grand tales about the Warden: all of the human patrons were flabbergasted that an elf was their savior, the city elves and servants venerated her, and the dwarves were just happy they escaped Orzammar and its constant darkspawn threat. The patrons said she was beautiful, with long white-blonde hair and haunting cornflower blue eyes. Stories told how intelligent and self-controlled she was. They said her lover Zevran was hired by Loghain to assassinate her but as soon as he saw her fighting he fell in love and joined her cause. It was said that King Alistair was secretly in love with her as well, and that she was the reason he and Queen Anora had no children. She was friends with dwarves, elves, mages, and Templars and brokered a peace between many in Ferelden. But that was before she disappeared. After she stepped down as Warden-Commander, she supposedly went to help her then husband take over the Crows. Then she vanished from Antiva as well. Cadash was curious to hear the Warden’s story. 

“The last letter I received from her, which was a week ago, said she was just east of Wildervale across the river…” Zevran pulled a well-read letter out of his pack.

“Did you say… Wildervale?” Hawke asked interestedly. “Anders is currently in Wildervale. He runs another clinic, mainly heals common illnesses like colds and such but it’s a living for him. He, _um_ , wants to make up for his past.”

There was an awkward silence. “Ah, yes,” said Zevran hastily. “I’m sure that he will be a great joy to have with us. But first, my wife.”

“Of course, Zevran. We’re on the mission for her,” Hawke smiled.

“Wife? Zev you sly dog you didn’t tell us you were married to this woman!” Iron Bull clapped him on the back. 

“You never asked, my friend,” Zevran shrugged but his eyes sparkled. Cadash smiled. All these years and he was still in love. “We were married in the Dalish way as Lyna desired.”

Cadash smiled. She never really thought about marriage when it was so insignificant to Iron Bull, but a part of her always really liked sappy love stories.  
Especially the ones where two people battle an archdemon together and save the world from darkspawn. 

“But enough about my thrilling romance! I can see Varric putting this to memory and I would not want him to steal my love life for his own stories!” Zevran laughed. 

Varric put up his hands innocently but he whispered, “There goes my idea for my new serial…” to Hawke and Cadash.

“It should not take us more than a week to reach Lyna, if we make much haste. Hidden in the woods there is a library of sorts that houses some interesting books if you know the right people. Being a Crow opens up many doors to the right people,” said Zevran.

“So let’s get started,” Cadash said, excitement building inside her. _A quest! A real fucking quest!_ “We’ll have plenty of time to chatter later when we’ve all saved people’s lives for the thousandth time.” Iron Bull rubbed at her neck affectionately.

“You are correct, lovely Cadash,” Zevran rose gracefully and replaced the straps of his pack onto his shoulders.


	12. Inside the Champion

Chapter 12

Varric was wrong about Hawke. She was actually a very good liar. She just never did it so no one ever expected her to deceive them. Hawke generally felt like the truth was the most right thing to tell, and hardly ever lied. Except about Anders. 

The truth was that Anders was not all right. Hawke didn’t want Varric to know because he would worry over her. _She was supposed to take care of him, not the other way around! ___She thought fiercely. He was her best friend and as close to family as anyone could get outside of blood relatives. She had to protect him, just this once, from the truth.

When the Breach first opened, and the Calling became very strong, it pulled very strongly at Anders. It became so intoxicating that Justice would have to take over for days at a time until the cravings calmed. It wasn’t hard to see that he was deteriorating. Every time Hawke visited he was a little less Anders and a little more Justice. There were so many days that Hawke had to plead with Justice to give Anders back that she lost count. And each time a new fluorescent blue fissure appeared in Anders’ skin, she would pretend not to notice. Anders wasn’t eating, was getting very little sleep, and could barely do any magic at all without calling upon Justice for help. 

The last time Hawke visited Anders a father brought his little girl into the clinic. Far from the normal scrapes and colds Anders normally treated, the little girl’s skin was shredded by a wolf she encountered harvesting mushrooms by the lake. Anders shook his head wearily, tried to tell the father he couldn’t save his daughter, and the man cried and clutched his child. Anders looked to Hawke: at the time she thought he was asking her to lead the man away, but afterward she realized he had been asking for forgiveness. Anders glowed blue and Justice came forth to save the child. Anders didn’t return for almost two weeks. In fact, she spent more lonely nights with Justice than she spent with her lover. 

It was breaking her. 

All of the lying to Varric and trying to hold it together like she always had. She held her family together through Father’s death, then Carver’s, then Mother’s, and damned if she was going to lose Bethany too, even if Bethany didn’t want to be a Grey Warden. 

Many people underestimated Hawke. Varric described her as sweet and kind in his book, but she took on the Arishok and won. She defeated Meredith and her red lyrium crazed mind. She was strong during the mage’s rebellion and tried to be a peacekeeper when all she wanted was to force people to get along. As much violence was in her life, she hated actual fighting between people, even though she was pretty good at it. She tried to take a middle ground in every situation and hear both sides. She was the go between for the Qunari and the Viscount, and the buffer between Meredith and Orsino. Always being pulled one way or another like she was the flag on the rope in tug-of-war. 

Hawke closed her eyes and tried to remember the old Anders, before Justice took such a close hold on him. She used to allow herself to get a little more banged up in a Carta fight or mage tussle just so she could go to his clinic. It was a basic shack but it was clean and neat. There was hope, healing, and love. 

In the very beginning of their relationship, Anders was afraid. Love was forbidden in the Tower. It showed weakness and allowed you to be controlled. But Hawke softened him. She was gentle and fierce, fiery and comforting. She didn’t need protecting but she protected him and all of her other friends. Even Fenris, who was an ass to her sister, and Isabella, who basically started the Qunari uprising. 

Hawke strained her memory for glimpses into the past. 

The first time Anders spent the night he smelled of elfroot, clean herbs, and the lingering burn of magic. He left his scent on the pillow and she would smile while she fell asleep, thinking about him. He loved cats and would often talk about Ser-Pounce-A-Lot, the kitten he received from the Warden a few years earlier. Many times she would go home and an array of felines would be mewling at her doorstep from his “sneaky” feeding of the local strays. She usually found Anders asleep at the desk, ink smeared over his hands and new manifestos littering the floor. Hawke would sigh, put out scraps, and pour a bowl of milk for the cats. She was too kind hearted. 

Hawke wanted to remember how soft Anders’ hair was when he took it out of its little ponytail. It used to be chin length but now it was all the way to his shoulders. The silky dirty blonde hair faded away to a brittle mousy mess that he usually kept tied up. She imagined the old version running through her fingers and tickling her as Anders kissed her all over. She tucked that memory away lovingly. 

Anders had terrible nightmares. Hawke supposed that’s why she found sleeping next to Varric so comfortable. Even though dwarves don’t dream, Varric still had issues with insomnia. Anders would wake in a cold sweat and she found that all she had to do was sleepily open her arms and let him cuddle in. Then he would doze right off as if nothing happened. After her mother died, Anders would do the same for her. 

Remembering the good times helped Hawke through the bad times with Anders. She knew in her heart that he was never going to get better, that death was inevitable, and that she could do nothing about it. These thoughts cut like a newly sharpened dagger but she didn’t let it phase her. Maybe she would suffer with Anders and his condition, but she could at least spare Varric from it and give him a good lie. It’s what he wanted to hear, after all 

As excited as Hawke was to see Anders after they found the Warden, she didn’t want her friends to see his condition. _Perhaps she could casually suggest that they split up_ , she thought. Iron Bull, Cadash, and Zevran could continue looking for the Warden and she could bring Varric to fetch Anders. She had no doubt that Anders would agree to accompany them. Both he and Justice respected the Warden and would want to help her cause. 

_**************************_

Later that night after they set up camp, Hawke spoke up around their tiny cook fire. “So I’ve had an idea and I want to roll it by you.” She kept her voice and affect calm and collected. All eyes went to her. “Well, since we’re on a bit of a time crunch, you know, dead Grey Wardens and such, I propose that we split up.” 

Varric watched her curiously. _What was she planning?_

“Varric and I will go to Wildervale and pick up Anders, and you three continue on to find the Warden. We can meet up on the east side of the lake. 

“Indeed, this is a good idea,” said Zevran thoughtfully. “Travelling to Lyna will talk another three days at most and we are moving away from your companion. I have no objections. Anyone else?” 

The party remained silent. Everyone seemed to feel that Zevran was the current group leader. Varric nodded a “yes” and tried to figure out what Hawke was up to. He knew she believed he was unaware of Anders’ real condition but in reality Varric knew everything. What was the purpose of spies if he didn’t know anything about his best friend’s adventures? It was her business though. Just as Hawke left the real Bianca alone, Varric allowed Hawke her confusing and emotionally draining relationship with someone who wasn’t really available. Maybe that was shitty, but hey, life isn’t always fair. Varric met eyes with Hawke but got a blank read. He turned away instead, a worry line etched on his face. 

Hawke smiled secretly. Her plan worked! She was going to see Anders and no one had to know how bad he was until she was there to support him. 


	13. Where the Wildervare Are

Chapter 13

Varric slapped yet another bug off of his face. “Damn bugs! Don’t they know it’s winter? Die already!” He waved his arms irritably. “Hawke, we’ve been walking for hours, maybe you need a break? Or maybe I’m trying to nicely say I want a break?” His eyebrows went up with the question and he stopped walking, forcing Hawke to stop as well. Her face was a great shade of cherry, which matched the crazy orange wisps of hair that floated around her face, escaped from her half-bun. 

“I can’t Varric. We’re only a few miles…” Hawke looked past the next forested hill to the glint of river further ahead that signaled they were close to Wildervale. Even more up the river was the small lake that they would eventually meet the others by. Her eyes were unfocused as they shifted back to him. 

Varric took a step forward, clasped her hands in his own and forced her to sit down in the shade on an old tree stump. “Hawke,” he let go of her and waved his hand in front of her face. “For fuck’s sake, _Marian_!” 

Hawke snapped him into focus. “What? You never call me that!”

“You’re distracted to the point of exhaustion right now. Talk to me. You’re bottling it all up again.” Varric wet a piece of cloth from his pouch and wiped the dirt away from Hawke’s face, then offered the water to her. 

After she took a long drink she sighed and looked into Varric’s face, searching for a way to tell the truth. Warm chocolate brown eyes held the gaze of light gold ones. “I… need to tell you something.”

Varric smiled gently at his best friend, “Champion, I already know about Anders. I just wanted you to tell me in your own time. Don’t worry. We’ll save him and Bethany. It’ll be okay.” He brought her into a hug. Her head fit just under his chin and he could smell the warmth from her hair. 

Hawke could only hope and nod. 

*************************

Darkness fell around the pair like a gossamer nightgown. The mountains behind them turned a beautiful deep pink, and then a midnight purple as the sun set to their left. As they approached the lake, the streak of orange on the water faded to a gentle glowing kiss from the last hour of daylight. Varric almost wished he could paint instead of write just so he could get it all down exactly as he saw it. 

_I’d put Hawke in the middle, not looking at me… one hand would be absentmindedly brushing her hair out of her face, the tendrils of brushed copper glowing a fiery red-gold in the last minutes of sunlight. Her freckles dark brown against pink cheeks buffeted by wind and sun. Dark eyes that had sparkling bits of hazel in them when they caught the light. Long eyelashes batted against worry and fear. And then, behind her, the lake shining in the twilight, undulating waves from the winter breezes rippling the surface. Breaks where blood lotus and spindleweed forced their way out of the water. Pine trees that looked so real you could smell the crisp fragrance._ Varric kept walking, imagining how he would make all of the colors just right. 

Anyone skilled enough to spot two professional spies would see an unlikely couple making their way to a small, somewhat suspicious cabin peeking through the trees. As it happened, however, no one saw a dwarf and a human female knock, wait for a few seconds, and then cross the threshold. 

*********************

Hawke had to hold back a gasp. Anders was a skeleton that used to be a real man. Blue cracks ran along every inch of his skin, lighting up every once in a while. His eyes were sunken and a pale electric blue. Long matted hair was tied back with a strip of leather. Where once it was shiny and blonde, gray speckled through it, threatening to take over completely. 

Hawke put on a mask. She couldn’t let either of them see how devastated she was about this latest deterioration. She pulled a huge smile out and enveloped Anders in a hug. ”I’ve missed you, love,” she whispered to him and was pleased when Anders, and not Justice, answered back. 

“Me too.” His voice was soft, like someone speaking for the first time in a week. “What brings you here?”

“Well,” began Varric, taking a seat on the only dusty little chair in the entire cabin, “You remember all those crazy quests we used to go on? We’ve been recruited for one more…”

Anders’ eyes grew wider as the story unfolded. “This sounds… Well, it sounds pretty bad.”

“I’m afraid. But also excited for Bethany. _Maker_ , that sounds awful,” Hawke squeezed Anders’ bony hand. “You have to be a part of some awful blood magic ritual and I’m looking forward to seeing Bethany.”

“You care about her. It’s okay to be happy every once in a while.” Anders gave Hawke a thin lipped smile. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you and your family. You deserve this.” 

Hawke’s lips pulled up at the corners. For the first time in what felt like years, the dark cloud of responsibility that loomed over her lessened slightly and she allowed herself to look forward to the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Friends I'm sorry it took so long to update. I *cough* started working on a Mass Effect fic and it's almost done so that one will be up soon too.


	14. Battered and Fixed

Chapter 14

Zevran whistled as Cadash and Iron Bull trudged behind him. Cadash wondered if Hawke and Varric had made it to Anders yet but had a more pressing matter at the moment. Bull was acting strangely, fidgeting with his eye patch and jumping at sounds in the trees. 

After the third startled look at sticks crunching under their feet, Cadash made him stop and look at her. “Bull, why are you so nervous?”

The Iron Bull looked around sheepishly, a branch just grazing his right horn. A few brown leaves drifted down and settled on his wide shoulders. “Um,” he began, sweeping the debris off. “A few nights ago, _well_ , more than _a few_ nights ago I got a visit from the elf.”

Cadash’s eyes narrowed and her chest caught on a sense of dread. “ _Explain_.”

Zevran was doing a good job looking like he was doing something while staying close enough to eavesdrop. 

“Hmm. Fen’harel told you to stop trying to thwart him, blah blah destroy and shit. It was the usual doom and gloom.”

“Details, Bull.”

“We were in the Fade. But you can’t dream so he came to me instead. We walked across a broken Skyhold, there was another Breach but it was bigger. He said it would end up like this if you didn’t stop. He seemed… sad.”

She let out a long exhale. “Deciding who gets to live and die shouldn’t be up to us. Why must we revert to our old glory? Why can’t we move forward in the world we have now and band together to make it a better place? I’m tired of trying to make it back to the past when the future is before us.”

“Especially since that doesn’t involve ripping the Veil open and possibly killing us all,” Bull said darkly. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Cadash wasn’t really mad. She knew Bull still kept secrets from her, and there were some secrets from her time in the Carta that she would never tell anyone. She was just curious. 

“You have the whole world on your shoulders already, Kadan,” Bull massaged her neck gently with one hand. “If I can spare you a little responsibility I will. But I guess my new shiny conscience wanted me to tell you.”

“Ew, gross! A Qunari with a conscience! What next? Dwarves with magic?” Cadash cocked a crooked grin at Bull until his expression softened. 

Around them the trees whispered to one another, and Cadash could’ve sworn they were talking about Solas. 

**************

After a day and a half they found the Warden. Zevran sprinted to her and kissed her with such love and devotion that even The Iron Bull had to look away as to not spoil their passion (or blush). 

“Friends, this is my Lyna. Lyna, the Inquisitor and her dashing Iron Bull.” Zevran’s grin was so wide it could’ve split his face. 

Cadash gave a small bow. “Hero of Ferelden.”

“Inquisitor.” The Warden tilted her head to the side. “I apologize that I was unable to assist you during your troubles. I was… unavailable.” 

The Warden was tall and slender, with pale unblemished skin. She had clear blue eyes and hair that was so blonde it was almost white. Severe cheekbones showed a combination of fearsome beauty and near starvation. 

Cadash could tell the Calling was taking a toll on her. Dark circles wound around her eyes and her full lips were cracked and dry. A thin scar ran through her right eyebrow and half an inch up her forehead. 

 

Zevran and the Warden spoke quickly about the plan. 

“Are you sure it has to be Anders? I know the man. He was a good recruit.”

“Yes, my darling. He is the one attached to a spirit, no? Was not the forest spirit’s request an earthen soul merged with one from the Fade?” Zevran had a tight grip on the Warden’s hand, worry and concern etched into the lines of his face. 

“He had a wonderful sense of humor. I hope Justice didn’t leech that.”

Zevran pursed his lips. His love must be remembering a different man, because the Anders he knew was a spoilsport activist. Zevran had nothing against freeing the mages, but he wasn’t particularly fond of overly sullen people. “Who can say, my dear?”

*****************

The group traveled a few miles before dark settled upon them. Zevran’s footsteps matched his Warden’s perfectly, their dainty feet barely making a sound in the thick layer of dead leaves carpeting the ground. Overhead, stars twinkled and a sliver of moon peeked from behind a cloud. 

Zevran sighed, contented. Lyna was with him again. After everything that happened, looking much worse for wear, but safe, and with him. His long fingers interlaced with hers and he brushed his lips against the cold metal covering her shoulder. 

“We should stop for the night, no?” He whispered into her ear. He saw the goose bumps pop up on her neck and knew instantly she was thinking the same thing he was. 

The Warden whipped around. “Ready to make camp for the night? I know a creek nearby where we can get water.”

“Good. I need a bath too,” Iron Bull scratched his horns and shot a wink at his Cadash, who blushed deeply. Zevran smiled. At least he was the only one finding some love tonight. 

The winter wind seemed to have taken the night off. It was still cool, but it kissed Zevran’s bare skin instead of biting it. He locked eyes with Lyna and removed her armor piece by piece. 

“I missed you,” he said, and was surprised to find his voice intoned with anger. “I _missed_ you. Where were you?” His hands were rough now, pulling off her boots with force while she laid back on the thick blanket. 

“Broken. Battered. Half crazy from the voices.” The Warden whispered back. “I’m sorry my love.” Her hands wound in his hair, pulling him up to kiss her lips. 

But Zevran wasn’t ready to concede this argument. He was suddenly furious at all the worry, all the lonely nights he faced. Being away from her was worse than the Blight. At least then he knew they would die together. 

“I was afraid.”

Lyna stopped pulling at him. Zevran was never afraid. “I’m so sorry. I know I should’ve written more… But there’s nothing I can say to make you forgive me.” Her wide eyes fixed on his. _Please_ , they begged. _I need you_.

Zevran crushed her lips with his own. His anger fueled his passion and he tangled his fingers into her icy blonde hair. With a tug he pulled her head back and nipped at her throat. All of the anger, sadness, and loneliness was bursting out of him. The only way he learned how to express himself in the past was physically. The Warden understood and let him leave tiny teeth marks on her skin.

The Warden bucked as Zevran bit his way down her thighs, spreading her legs so he could fit between them. He knew he should warm her up more. Maker knows they used to spend hours just getting ready to make love. 

But they didn’t have enough time and Zevran wasn’t about to wait. In spite of his anger, he slid in gently, giving her time to adjust to his body after so long apart. She whimpered and he hissed out the breath he’d been holding. It felt so good to be with her again.

He thrust into her until he felt her tightening around him. She cried out breathlessly and he spent himself into the grass beside them. Old habits die hard, even if Wardens were supposed to be infertile. 

Lyna looked into his face, “I’m sorry.” Her graceful hand cupped his cheek. “Never again.”

“No. Never again.”

****************

When they returned to camp Cadash and Iron Bull were considerably less dusty and in a much better mood. Zevran smiled. _Oh to be young and in love_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Friends! Here's some random characterization notes I made when I first started writing this fic. I hope my writing has tried to reflect what I want the characters to be like. Also, here's two photos of people I found if you want to know what Hawke and the Warden look like in my mind. I haven't found a good one for Cadash just yet but I'm Working on it!
> 
> Hawke- https://www.google.com/search?sa=G&hl=en&q=daria+sidorchuk&tbm=isch&tbs=simg:CAQSmwEJ92KHM_1pe_1icajwELEKjU2AQaCAgCCAUIFwg9DAsQsIynCBpiCmAIAxIo9RmGH8cPih_17HokfiB_1bGYcf9BnBMbotuzH1MOolvi2AMYYx1Cy8LRowmZb-fggYfG4X872Uiy7oRH1PUNYNz_1z-h7GOQaCbkVh3sgxReIX5VT7srMIVFXtBIAQMCxCOrv4IGgoKCAgBEgSbeAFkDA&ved=0ahUKEwiTqpPF4-nPAhVE5oMKHeP1Dp8Qwg4IGygA&biw=1050&bih=648#imgrc=92KHM_pe_id1KM%3A
> 
> Warden- https://www.google.com/search?sa=G&hl=en&q=white+blonde+hair+natural&tbm=isch&tbs=simg:CAQSlwEJB1TiOtExFasaiwELEKjU2AQaBAgXCD0MCxCwjKcIGmIKYAgDEijnEpUH5hKDEJQHkhqvAeAalhqTGuUl8THwMNAx6DDPMeQwozzpJcgxGjA-LjAqGdrU3-nuJxDT52-PoFbbRZZVmxunG03nhFmZW99yZEPf606nqMAGLMXnTEwgBAwLEI6u_1ggaCgoICAESBK6x52kM&ved=0ahUKEwiNrfDv4-nPAhUp04MKHV6TD6UQwg4IGygA&biw=1050&bih=648#imgrc=zSrwyuIxprR4ZM%3A
> 
>  
> 
> the warden- stoic, best outcome for the most people even if that means a bad outcome for some, self-sacrificing, cool, well collected, kind but firm, ask questions while taking action, intelligent, intellectual, Utilitarian
> 
>  
> 
> cadash- headstrong, stubborn, good commander, protects the people she cares about first, loyal, tough on the outside but sensitive inside that scares her, sarcastic, makes close friendships, has a mildly violent nature like Iron Bull, act and then ask questions, autonomy is very important- people should be able choose for themselves
> 
>  
> 
> Hawke- trusting, peacekeeper, friendship, forgiving, diplomatic, kind, sweet, compassionate, loyal, generally soft but will attack if loved ones are threatened, will always go for the compromise that makes both sides happy, takes responsibility for everyone's happiness and wellbeing, asks questions and gathers information before acting, Fairness/Justice


	15. Seven's a Party

Chapter 15

Varric, Hawke, and Anders made their way dutifully to the pre-ordained meeting location. Even though it was only a few miles from where Anders was living, it took a hours to make the journey. Anders was weak and couldn’t go for more than a couple hundred yards without stopping to catch his breath. Hawke winced every time he stumbled over something insignificant on the well-worn path to the lake. 

Though he was bundled tightly, Anders still shivered as if he were exposed to the mildly chilly air. Hawke imagined his ribs underneath his robes showing through his chest, and the painful retractions from breathing so hard. His effort was so strenuous that she could see him using his neck muscles to lift his chest. 

If Varric noticed anything, and she knew he probably did, he kept his mouth shut. Instead, he chatted pleasantly the entire trip. He caught Anders up on the past few years, interesting gossip in the Inquisition, and how the rest of their friends were doing. 

Hawke was suddenly very grateful for her best friend. Varric knew she couldn’t be distracted from suffering, especially her lover’s, so he tried to be the bait, or the distraction, whichever she needed. On yet another water break (Varric called them regularly when he saw Anders was about to trip), she rested her hand on his shoulder and gave it an affectionate squeeze. 

“You’re welcome,” he whispered back. 

***********

At high noon Hawke caught a glimpse of smoke rising from the edge of the lake. “Must be Cadash and the others. I hope they weren’t waiting too terribly long for us.”

“I’m sure they managed,” Anders said, at once irritable and exhausted. He could feel Justice scraping along the edges of his consciousness and fought for control. It was a constant battle. Anders’ body and mind no longer wanted to have co-inhabitants. Everything was shutting down. He wouldn’t tell that to anyone else though, especially not Hawke after all she had sacrificed for him.

Iron Bull was stoking the fire as they approached, and three large fish turned on a spit, sizzling when he spritzed them with water. (“It keeps them moist,” he explained later.)

Cadash greeted Varric and Hawke with a hug and nodded respectfully toward whom she assumed was Anders. _He looks like shit_. She fought desperately to control the shock on her face, but had to gently stomp on Bull’s foot to keep him from saying anything. He shot her a dirty look and stuck out his tongue just enough to annoy her. 

No one else said anything until Varric broke the awkward silence with, “So, fish eh? No innocent wild mabari around?”

Bull laughed. “Nor were there any lost dwarves tramping around, although you are a rather stringy meat.”

*************************

The fire crackled merrily in the center of camp. Bull and Zevran were still off hunting. Anders was speaking to the spirits in the woods trying to locate the exact spot the Warden explained to everyone earlier that evening. Cadash sat next to the Warden, watching her restring her bow. The Warden's quick elven fingers hardly looked like they were doing any work at all. Her face was serene and contemplative, a mixture of age and experience behind her aquamarine eyes. Her hair was pulled back into a neat bun. Her facial tattoos— _vallaslin_ , Cadash remembered, were intricate and wound prettily around her forehead. They were light and airy and accented her high cheekbones and strong jawline. 

"I got them when I came of age, about a year before the last Blight," the Warden smiled warmly as Cadash blushed at getting caught staring. "I apologize, I can usually sense when someone is looking at me. I never trained as a smuggler or rogue such as yourself, but the Dalish have fine tuned skills for listening in the forest and avoiding _shems_. Or we try, at least. I am a bit of an outsider now, what with all the mixed races of people that accompany me on my journeys.” She tucked an invisible strand of loose hair back behind her ear. “Tell me, have you ever heard of a dwarf named Oghren? He was a dear friend of mine during the Blight and for quite some time afterward." 

Cadash shook her head. "If Oghren was from Orzammar, probably not. I was born topside."

"And I am sure you are much better off. I did not particularly enjoy my time spent in Orzammar. Too many nobles with too much pride and tradition." The Warden’s nimble fingers finished stringing the bow and she began checking the hold. "Ah, perfect. I prefer blades, actually, but this is a fine bow."

"I didn't know the Dalish trained in double blades!" Cadash said excitedly. Blades were something she knew well since she grew up fighting her way out of difficult situations. "Why are you using the bow if you don't like it?"

"I do not dislike it," said the Warden. "I simply like a different instrument better. We are a party filled with warriors, blade users, and only two long-range attackers; Varric and Miss Bianca, and Anders, but he is so weak that I fear he will be of little help to us."

"Oh," said Cadash, feeling foolish. The Warden had a calm confidence about her that made Cadash feel slightly insecure, as if being Andraste’s Herald and the Inquisitor were trifles compared to the great Hero of Ferelden. 

She knew it wasn't meant negatively. The Dalish had a long tradition of being rather aloof and introverted. It seemed like the Warden knew this and at least tried to seem more approachable, but assumed a kind, taciturn mother figure instead. The Warden was like hardened steel, honed to a fine edge, and Cadash felt like an ill suited and clumsy pommel. Cadash was incredibly intimidated.

"Ohgren was a terrible drunkard," began the Warden, obviously trying to break the awkward silence. "But he was a very close friend of mine. He had a sweet child, flaming red hair like his. Oghren passed away a few years back."

"I'm sorry for your loss," said Cadash, unsure of what to say. She was better at fighting off feelings than helping someone deal with them. 

"Thank you. I have lost many friends over the years. Leliana left me to join the Divine, Morrigan ran away to have Kieran, Alistair became King, Sten became the new Arishok after a time, Shale simply disappeared, and Wynne passed on before Oghren," she looked wistfully into the fire. "I can't get rid of Zevran even if I wanted to, though," the Warden smiled. "We are an interesting match. It is not what people generally expect."

Cadash privately agreed. Zevran was as flamboyant and flirtatious as Iron Bull. Indeed, there were so many similarities between Bull and Zevran that it was hard to see how they wouldn’t be friends. Both were spies or assassins at some point in their lives and both had been slaves: Zevran to the mercenary group the Crows in Antiva and Iron Bull to the Qun and the Ben-Hassrath. 

“I used to be just like you,” the Warden continued. “Looking back I see how foolish I was! I always had a witty remark or comeback that made my clan groan in disappointment. I used to make terribly raunchy jokes with Oghren and Zevran and even King Alistair! I was a sarcastic little whip of a warrior. But I have to keep that in check now. The Calling gets louder when I let my emotions run and experience has made me more neutral.” The fire reflected in her deep eyes. “Forgive me, I am dithering on about myself. It has been awhile since I have had a conversation with someone who would talk back. The forest is full of spirits but most of them do not answer you.” 

This made Cadash more than a little paranoid. She’d had plenty to do with spirits dealing with Cole, Solas, the Breaches, and her weird trips to the Fade, not to mention they found Hawke’s mage lover Anders, who was sharing a body with a spirit named Justice. Dwarves didn’t even dream and she probably interacted with more spirits in her lifetime than all the Orzammar dwarves did since the first few Paragons. 

“Do you believe in the good spirits, Warden?” she asked tentatively. 

“Spirits of compassion and mercy? Yes. They walk this land looking to help others. I hear your friend Cole was like that.” 

Cadash looked at the Warden questioningly. How did she know about Cole?

“I met him,” said the Warden, guessing what Cadash was about to ask. “He travelled through these woods one night and happened across me. He said ‘I can feel your hurt’ and helped me release some anger at being in this situation. We began to chat, which was rather difficult because he kept pulling up bits of my, well, _personal_ , past and I learned that he worked for the Inquisition before it was disbanded. He was very kind.”

“Yes, he is,” said Cadash. “I miss him.” She picked up a long stick and began stoking the fire, which had died down as they spoke. The flames burned into her eyes so that when she looked into the dark forest around the she could see little fire people dancing in the shadows. The air was calm and beginning to be properly cold. Winter was upon them. 

Varric and Hawke sat nearby playing a quick game of Diamondback. Hawke laughed and laid down her cards, showing a perfect hand. Varric accused her of cheating and then laughed, “Remember that one time at the Hanged Man when you _tried_ to cheat just to see if you could beat Isabella? And the entire table was full of Coterie mercenaries and we had to fight all of them in the tavern. That bartender was so pissed off. It was great!”

Hawke laughed with him. “I was just thinking about that! I can’t cheat with you watching me, though. Maybe if I was playing with Anders or Merrill…” Her face fell at the thought of her mage. Varric tried to distract her by shuffling the cards prettily but she flashed a fake smile and bit her lip. 

Cadash knew that Varric and Hawke were close and inseparable friends but seeing them together made her realize that they were two halves of a whole. 

“The Dalish have a legend about their kind of relationship,” said the Warden, who was also observing the pair. “Dirthamen and Lalon’Din were either twins or very close friends, depending on which version is being told. They were inseparable: twin souls, we call them. They were not romantically involved. Their story is meant to remind the clan that friendships are filled with love and that love is much more than physical desires.” 

The dwarf and the elf sat together the rest of the time in silence, contemplating life and their role in the universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've got the ending written! But I am completely stumped on how to connect it. There should be about 3 chapters after this! Thanks for being patient with me.


End file.
